QpMFORl 




LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 

^^f' ©OMrisl^t :f a. 

Shelf _..?!:/ 



UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 



Comfortinja 



S (^OOfi of ^tUctiOtiB 



On bravely through the sunshine and the showersl 
Time hath his work to do and we have ours. 

Emerson 



CHICAGO . -f. ^. . f^_!?r^, V 

CHAS. H. KERR & CCT." ' ' '' " ^ - -^ 

1891 ^ , 






Of CoNf KE5S 
WASHINGTON 



COPYRIGHT. 18 91 
BY LOUISA B. FISHER 

ALTON, ILL. 



PRESS OF 

COBBS LIBRARY CO. 

CHICAGO. 



3ntrobuction. 



TT7HE sentiments that are gathered and set in 
order in these pages reveal the mind and heart 
of our friend, Rev. Judson Fisher, as he was 
brought face to face with the problems of God — 
of life and duty, of death and immortality. 

Though the theme seems limited to the great 
event of mortal sorrow and separation, yet it gath- 
ers to itself far-reaching thoughts. In the hands 
of this modest, but rare man, it becomes the center 
of hopes, aspirations and convictions, which are 
appropriate to all seasons and to the varied emer- 
gencies of human experience. 

It is believed that such selections as these, short, 
tender and devout, voicing the profoundest emo- 
tions of the soul — are of permanent and increasing 
value; and when gradually collected through a 
long and earnest life, by one wh'ose taste was so 
cultivated, and whose nature was so alive to the 
reality and value of the spiritual life, as in the 
present instance, we confidently commend them 



4 Introduction. 

to any and all who are seeking help in the things 
of the spirit — who are reaching out for light in the 
darkness and relief in their affliction, who are 
needing the comfort of God, and long for the 
peace that passeth understanding. 

While the passages were chosen more especially 
for use on public occasions, we are sure they will 
be found equally well adapted to the private cham- 
ber and to moments of solitude. 

John C. Learned. 
St. Louis, Mo. 



(preface. 



VT7HIS little book grew out of the personal need 
^ of the compiler for words of tenderness and 
sympathy when called to minister to the bereaved. 
It consists of precious fragments carefully gath- 
ered from various sources, and was intended for 
his use alone. Since he can use it no longer, 
friends have expressed the desire that it should be 
published, in order that others may avail them- 
selves of its appropriate selections, prayers and 
aspirations. In accordance with this wish, it has 
been prepared, and is now offered to those who 
need its words of faith and trust. 

It is dedicated to those dear friends in the West 
with whom my husband ever considered it his 

highest privilege to be a fellow-worker. 

L. B. F. 



ConfenfB. 



PAGE 



Fear of Death . . . . . . 9 

Death a Transition . . . . 17 

Death a Release . . . . -27 

The Dead Still Live in Their Works . 39 
Tributes ....... 49 

Death of Children .... 61 

Death of the Aged . . « . -71 
The Future Life . . . . „ 83 

Faith and Trust . . . . -103 

Life in this World . . . .117 

For the Dead ...... 131 

Bible Readings 137 

At the Grave . . . . . -155 

Prayers ....... 167 

Appendix — A Memorial Sketch . J. Ll. J. 183 



t^ Sear of ©eat^. 



Lo'wly faithftd, banish fear. 
Right onward drive tmharmed; 

The port, well worth the cruise, is near. 
And every wave is charmed. 

Emerson. 



t^cfe<irof®e4t^. 



HY shrink from death? Come when he will 

or may, 

The night he brings will bring the risen day. 
His call, his touch, I neither seek nor shun; 
His power is ended when his work is done. 
My shield of Faith no cloud of Death can dim; 
Death cannot conquer me. I conquer him. 

S. C. Hall. 



'O fear death is nothing else than to appear to 
be wise without being so; for it is to appear to 
know what one does not kno^v. For no one knows 
but that death is the greatest of all good to man. 
But men fear it, as if they knew that it is the 
greatest of evils. Socrates. 



NIGHT. 

T^YSTERIOUS night! when our first parent knew 
J^S*' Thee from report divine, and heard thy name. 
Did he not tremble for this lovely frame, 
This glorious canopy of light and blue? 
Yet 'neath a curtain of translucent dew. 
Bathed in the rays of the great setting flame, 



12 The Fear of Death. 

Hesperus with the hosts of heaven came, 
And lo! Creation widened in man's view. 
Who could have thought such darkness lay concealed 
Within thy beams, O Sun! or who could find, 
Whilst fly and leaf and insect stood revealed, 
That to such countless orbs thou mad'st us blind! 
Why do we then shun death with anxious strife? 
If light can thus deceive, wherefore not life? 

J. Blanco White. 



I 



T is impossible that we think rightly when we 
suppose that death is an evil. Socrates. 



'O die is landing on some silent shore, 
®^' Where billows never break nor tempests roar; 
Ere well we feel the friendly stroke, 'tis o'er. 

Garth. 



HY fear the night? Why shrink from death, 

That phantom wan? 
There is nothing in heaven, or earth beneath. 
Save God and man. 



EN are disturbed not by things, but by the 
views they take of things. Thus death is 
nothing terrible, else it would have appeared so to 
Socrates; but the terror consists in our notion of 
death — that it is terrible. Epictetus. 



The Fear of Death. 13 

VTTHIS earth is the nurse of all we know, 
®IL^ This earth is the mother of all we feel, 
And the coming of death is a dreadful blow 

To a brain unencompassed by nerves of steel, 
When all that we know, and feel and see, 
Shall pass, like an unreal mystery. Shelley. 



Why should we 
Anticipate our sorrows? 'Tis like those 
That die for fear of death. Sir J. Denham. 



YT/HE ship may sink, and I may drink 
-i- A hasty death in the bitter sea; 
But all that I leave in the ocean grave 

Can be slipped and spared, and no loss to me. 

What care I, though falls the sky. 

And the shrinking earth to a cinder turn? 

No fires of doom can ever consume 

What never was meant nor made to burn. 

Let go the breath. There is no death 
To the living soul, nor loss nor harm; 

Not of the clod is the life of God: 

Let it mount as it will from form to form. 

Chas. G. Ames. 

fT is impossible that anything so natural, so nec- 
essary, and so universal as death, should ever 
have been designed by Providence as an evil to 
mankind. Dean Swift. 



14 The Fear of Death. 

fT is as natural to die as to be born, and to the 
little infant, perhaps, the one is as painful as 
the other. Lord Bacon. 



i 



HAVE often thought of death, and I find it 
the least of all evils. Idem. 



EATH cannot be an evil, for it is universal. 

Schiller. 



(p\0 man who is fit to live need fear to die. Poor, 
timorous, faithless souls that we are, how 
we shall smile at our vain alarms when the worst 
has happened. To us here, death is the most 
terrible word v/e know. But when we have tasted 
its reality, it will mean to us birth, deliverance, a 
new creation of ourselves. It will be what health 
is to the sick man. It will be what home is to the 
exile. It will be what the loved one given back is 
to the bereaved. As we draw near to it, a solemn 
gladness should fill our hearts. It is God's great 
morning lighting up the sky. Our fears are the 
terrors of children in the night. The night, with 
its terrors, its darkness, its feverish dreams, is 
passing away; and when we av/ake, it will be into 
the sunlight of God. 



The Fear of Death. 15 

TTTHERE is nothing that nature has made neces- 
-1- sary which is more easy than death. Why 
should we be in fear of anything so long, that is 
over so soon? It is not death itself that is dreadful, 
but the fear of it that goes before it. Seneca. 



¥EN die, and are forgotten. The great work 
Goes on the same. Among the myriads 
Of men that live, or have lived, or shall live, 
What is a single life, or thine or mine. 
That we should think all nature would stand still 
If we are gone? We must make room for others. 

Longfellow. 



%cat^ a ttanBiiion to feife. 



T/ie best proof of a heaven to co77ie is its dawning within 
us now. Emerson. 



^tai^ (X tx<xmiiion to fetfe. 



TTTHERE is no death! what seems so is 
^^^ transition; 

This life of mortal breath 
Is but the suburb of the life elysian, 
Whose portal v\"e call death. 

Longfellow. 



'O thee it is not so much as the lifting of a latch 
—only a step into the open air out of a tent 
already luminous with a light that shines through 
its transparent walls. 



PWARD steals the life of man 

As the sunshine from the wall, 
From the wall into the sky, 

From the roof along the spire; 
Ah, the souls of those that die 
Are but sunbeams lifted higher. 

Longfellow. 



HE grave itself is but a covered bridge, 
Leading from light to light, through a brief 

darkness. Longfellow. 



20 Death a Transition to Life. 

YTTELL the fainting soul in the weary form, 
-^^ There's a world of the purest bliss, 
That is linked as that soul and form are linked 
By a covered bridge, with this. 

Yet to reach that realm on the farther shore, 
We must pass through a transient gloom, 

And must walk unseen, unhelped and alone, 
Through that covered bridge, the tomb. 

But we all pass over on equal terms; 

For the universal toll 
Is the outer garb which the hand of God 

Has flung around the soul. 

Though the eye is dim, and the bridge is dark, 

And the river it spans is wide, 
Yet faith points on to a shining mount 

That looms on the other side. 

To enable our feet in the next day's march 

To climb that golden ridge. 
We must each lie down for one night^s rest. 

Inside of the covered bridge. 

Daniel Mann, M.D. 

gTLTHOUGH death ever seems to be feasting 
J-\ upon life, yet the opposite is equally true, and 
well has led a poet to say: 

''Life evermore is fed by death. 

In earth and sea and sky; 
And, that a rose may breathe its breath, 
Something must die. 



Death a Transition to Life. 

Earth is a sepulchre of flowers, 

Whose vitalizing mould 
Through boundless transmutation towers 

In green and gold. 



I 



DON'T believe in death; 

If hour by hour I die, 
'Tis hour by hour to gain 

A better life thereby. 



HAT is it to die, if it is not to live forever? 
Those millions of worlds above which call 
us by their radiant symphony, bear me witness. 
And beyond those millions of worlds, what is there? 
The infinite, always the infinite. If I pronounce 
the name of God, I bring a smile to the lips of 
some of you who do not believe in God. Why do 
they not believe in God? Because they believe 
only in the vital forces of nature. But w^hat is 
nature? Without God 'tis but a grain of sand. 
This is like looking at the small side of things 
because the great side dazzles us too much. But I 
believe in the great side. What is the earth? A 
cradle and a tomb. And even as the cradle had 
its beginnings so the tomb has its dawning for the 
dead; it is a door closed indeed to the world, but 
opening upon the worlds of which we may now 
obtain only a far-distant glimpse. Believe if you 



2 2 Death a Transition to Life. 

will that I shall be buried to-morrow or in ten years 
to come — I feel within me the assurance that the 
tomb will not hold me prisoner ; — I feel that your 
six feet of earth will not be able to make night 
where T am lying; — your earth worms may devour 
all that is perishable in my frame, but that some- 
thing which is the life of my brain-^the life of my 
eyes, the life of my ears, my forehead and my lips, 
can be destroyed by no power on earth. 

Victor Hugo. 



'TTTIS midnight. From the dark-blue sky 
ej® rj.-^^ stars, which now look down on earth, 
Have seen ten thousand centuries fly. 
And give to countless changes birth. 

And when the pyramids shall fall. 
And, mouldering, mix as dust in air, 

The dwellers on this altered ball 

May still behold them glorious there. 

Shine on! shine on! with you I tread 
The march of ages, orbs of light! 

A last eclipse o'er you may spread; 
To me, to me, there comes no night. 



Death a Transition to Life. 23 

THE HIGHER BIRTH. 

T7AREWELL, farewell, thou fostering earth. 
^^ The gift of life I now resign; 
The spirit waits a higher birth; 
My useless dust I now resign. 

I drop my chrysalis of clay; 

On new-fledged wings I take my flight; 
Up to the brilliant source of day 

I rise from death's dark night. 

William Parsons Lunt. 



XTTHUS ever, towards man's height of nobleness 
-A.® Striving some new progression to contrive; 
Till, just as any other friend's we press 
Death's hand; and, having died, feel none the less 
How beautiful it is to be alive. 

Henry Septimus Sutton. 



^T MAN is not completely born until he has 
/^ passed through death. Benjamin Franklin- 



HEN from flesh the spirit freed 

Hastens homeward to return, 
Mortals say a man is dead. 

But angels shout, a child is born. 

Wesley 



24 Death a Transition to Life. 

fN this round world of many circles within circles, 
do we make a weary journey from the high 
grades to the low to find at last they lie close to- 
gether, that the two extremes touch, and that our 
journey's end is but our starting place! 



DEATH OUTWARD, NOT ACTUAL. 

ND ever near us, though unseen, 
^ The dear immortal spirit tread; 
For all the boundless universe 
Is life — there are no dead. 

E. BULWER Lytton. 



SOTHINCt that is shall perish utterly, 
But perish only to revive again 
In other forms, as clouds restore in rain 
The exhalation of the land and sea. 



TT7HE withered leaf is not dead and lost. There 
^^" are forces in it and around it, though working 
in inverse order, else how could it rot? Despise 
not the rag from which paper is made, or the litter 
from which the earth makes corn. Carlyle. 



AN never dies. The soul inhabits the body 
for a time, and leaves it again. The soul is 
myself; the body is only my dwelUng-place. Birth 



Death Outward, Not Actual. 25 

is not birth; there is a soul already existent when 
the body comes to it. Death is not death; the 
soul merely departs, and the body falls. 

Buddhist Scriptures. 



tTTHE day which we fear as our last, is but the 
J-^ birth-day of eternity. . . That which we call 
death is but a pause, or suspension, and in truth a 
progress to life. Seneca. 



SEATH does not differ at all from life. 
Thales, 640 B. C. 

^EAD! dead! I cannot make it seem 
J^ That she we loved has gone away; 
It is the phantasm of a dream. 

She sleeps to wake another day. 
How hard it is to understand 

The weird significance of death — 
The marble lip and icy hand, 

The utter absence of the breath. 
Ah, could we start in form like this 

The stilled machinery of life 
By subtle power of touch or kiss! 

But no! she should be spared the strife. 
Dear friend I knew and loved so well, 

I see you not. I look at this 
Poor, empty and discarded shell 

That held your soul in chrysalis. 



26 Death Outward, Not Actual. 

Here in the land whose gentle touch 

Mine seems to feel upon it yet, 
I lay one little flower. 'Tis such 

As tells you I will not forget. 
I bend and kiss the hidden eyes, 

Sweet eyes, and dear, you cannot know 
What sunlight faded from our skies 

In your eclipse. We loved you so! 
Dear lips, through which the soul went out 

To the eternity of God, 
Past loss and sorrow, pain and doubt. 

To venture in the paths untrod, — 
Oh, lips whose music I shall miss, 

Take now one last, long kiss from me, 
And she will somxCwhere know that this 

Was given the soul I cannot see. 



©eat^ a QJefease. 



And I smiled to think God'' s greatness Jioived 7'ound 

our incompleteness. 
Round our restlessness His rest. ]\Irs. Browning. 



®«it^ A (gefe<i0e. 



BLESSED are the dead which die in the Lord 
from henceforth: yea, saith the Spirit, that 
they may rest from their labors; for their works 
do follow them. Book of Revelations. 



EOW dark the discipline of pain, 
Were not the suffering followed by the sense 
Of infinite rest and infinite release. 

Longfellow. 



ND sweet seemed death — 
^The ceasing of this painful breath. 
The laying down this life of care, 
1 he breathing of a purer air. Trench. 



GLORIOUS day, when I shall remove from 
this confused crowd to join the divine assem- 
bly of souls. Cato. 



30 Death a Release. 

THE DEATH-BED. 

E watched her breathing through the night, 

Her breathing soft and low, 
As in her breast the wave of life 
Kept heaving to and fro. 

So silently we seemed to speak, 

So slowly moved about, 
As we had lent her half our powers 

To eke her living out. 

Our very hopes belied our fears, 

Our fears our hopes belied — 
We thought her dying when she slept, 

And sleeping when she died. 

For when the morn came dim and sad, 

And chill with early showers. 
Her quiet eyelids closed — she had 

Another morn than ours. Thomas Hood. 



ER sufferings ended with the day, 

Yet lived she at its close. 
And breathed the long, long night away, 

In statue-like repose. 

But when the sun in all his state. 

Illumed the eastern skies, 
She passed through glory's morning gate. 

And walked in Paradise. t. B. Aldrich. 



Death a Release. 31 

QTHE was dead. No sleep so beautiful and calm, 
^^ so free from trace of pain, so fair to look upon. 
She seemed a creature fresh from the hand of God 
and waiting for the breath of life, not one who had 
lived and suffered death. She was past all help or 
need of it. We will not wake her. 

Charles Dickens. 



^OD giveth quietness at lastl 

The common way once more is passed 
From pleading tears and lingerings fond 
To fuller life and love beyond. 

O silent land, to which we move. 
Enough if there alone be love; 
And mortal need can ne'er outgrow 
What it is waiting to bestow. 

Fold the rapt soul in your embrace, 
Dear ones familiar with the place! 
While to the gentle greetings there 
We answer here with murmured prayer. 

O pure soul! from that far-off shore 
Float some sweet song the waters o'er; 
Our faith confirm, our fears dispel, 
With the dear voice we loved so well. 

T. G. Whittier. 



32 Death a Release. 



i 



OR her we know 

The gain is infinite as God. 

But we w^ho heap the earth and sod 
Upon the grave that awes us so, 
Will find the long hours full of loss, 

And all our trivial tasks will seem 

Like something happening in a dream; 
She wears the crown, we bear the cross, 
Yet could we wish her back again? 

The soul that turned toward the light 

And sunshine of the infinite 
As flowers toward the window pane? 



EAUTIFUL rest! 

Tired traveler, sleep 
On the earth's green breast 

In silence deep. 
Pale flowers with thee 

Their leaflets close; 
Heaven gently bends 

O'er thy repose. 

Wake, spirit, wake! 

The morn is near; 
Loftily rise 

Toward thine high sphere. 
Flesh cannot bind 

The free-born soul; 
Life, endless life. 

Hath made thee whole. 



Death a Release. 33 

SET FREE. 

HAT lieth here? It seemeth she 
«-" Who lately walked and talked with me; 
But when I speak no answering word 
Is given to tell me mine were heard. 
Her loving lips could not resist 
The prayer I uttered w^hen I kissed 
These hidden eyes and icy cheek; 
She whom I loved would hear and speak — 
For always when I spoke her name 
Her eyes would kindle into flame, 
As sunshine lights a shadowed lea, 
And all the world would seem to me 

More bright, because her rosy mouth 
Broke into smiling, as a flower 
Breaks into bloom, and makes the hour 

A fragment of the south. 

No. 'Tis not she that lieth here. 
I touch the hand that used to thrill 
With love's swift fire. O, cold and chill! 

I bend and call by the deaf ear. 

And all my soul is in the cry, 
But words of mine no more can reach 
Her heart and stir it into speech. 

This is not she, though I am I. 

The change has come to her which makes 
What once was mine a mystery; 
A shell cast upward from the sea. 



34 Death a Release. 

That vast eternal sea, that breaks 
Against the new world; and the soul 

That tenanted this shell we see 

Has gone from you and me. 

I wonder if the soul set free 
From this imprisoning shape of clay 
Comes back to look at it to-day, 

Remembering what it used to be? 

The freed soul spreads exultant wings, 
Soars sunward, seaward, here and there. 
Flits like a shining mote in air. 

And spurns earth's low and groveling things. 

But hither from the ends of earth 
I think it comes again to see 
This shape, and say "this once was me, 

And now alas! so little w^ortli 

Was me, and yet not me, for I, 
The I that thought and felt before, 
Am like a bird whose prison door 

Swings wide and lets the prisoner fly 
To heaven's blue gateway, while it sings 
In utter joy of uncaged wings." 

E. E. Rexford. 



Death a Release. 35 



ASLEEP. 



^LEEP sweetly, tender heart, in peace; 
^ Sleep, noble spirit, blessed soul. 
While the stars, the moons increase, 
And the great ages onward roll. 

Sleep till the end, true soul and sweet; 

Nothing comes to thee new or strange. 
Sleep full of rest from head to feet; 

Lie still, dry dust, secure of change. 

Tennyson. 



I 



BEFORE SLEEP. 

LEEP is a death. Oh, make me try, 
By sleeping, what it is to die; 
And as gently lay my head 
On my grave as now my bed. 

Howe'er I rest. Great God, let me 
Awake again at least with Thee; 
And thus assured, behold I lie 
Secure or to awake or die. 

These are my drowsy days; in vain 
I do now wake to sleep again; 
Oh, come that hour when I shall never 
Sleep again, but wake forever. 

Dr. Thomas Browne. 



36 Death a Release. 

A REST. 

Tv OOK upon him now. 

J^ As a weary child he lies, 

With the quiet dreamless eyes, 
O'er which the lashes darkly sweep, 
And on his lips the quiet smile — 
The soul's adieu to earthly strife, 
i\nd on his face the deep repose 
We never saw in life. 
Peaceful be his rest, and deep; 
Let him sleep. 

Oh! it is well the strife is o'er, 
That thus so peacefully he lies, 
Unheeding now the bitter words. 
The cold unpitying eyes — 
Fold his mantle o'er his breast — 
Peaceful be his sleep and blest; 
Let him rest. 

Lay him gently to his rest; 

Peaceful be his sleep, and blest. 

No sigh to breathe above his bier. 

No tear to stain the marble brow. 

Only with tender pitying love. 

Only with faith that looks above. 

We gaze upon him now. 

The heavy cross at last laid down. 

The crown of glory won. 

No thought of toil and suffering past. 

But joy to think the task is done. 



Death a Release. 37 

Oh, bear him gently to his rest; 
Oh, gently heap the flowery sod, 
x\nd leave his body to the dust. 
His spirit to his God. 



ME has outsoared the shadow of our night; 
Envy and calumny and hate and pain, 
And that unrest which men miscall delight, 
Can touch him not and torture not again; 
From the contagion of the world's slow stain 
He is secure, and now can never mourn 
A heart grown cold, a head grown gray in vain; 
Nor, when the spirit's self has ceased to burn. 
With sparkless ashes load an unlamented urn. 
He lives, he wakes; 'tis death is dead, not he. 

Shelley on Keats. 



t^ ®eab ^fiff feit?e in t^ir Worfte. 



77?^ world goes on, and happiest he 
Who in such wise wijis immortality , 
That shotild he sleep forever in the grave, 
His work goes on and helps the world to save. 

J.W.C. 



t^ ®eftb S/iiH Mn in t^eir TJJorfto. 



O power can die that ever wrought for truth; 
Thereby a law of Nature it became, 
And lives unwithered in its sinewy youth, 
When he who called it forth is but a name. 
Therefore I cannot think thee wholly gone; 
The better part of thee is with us still; 
Thy soul its hampering clay aside hath thrown. 
And only freer wrestles with the 111. 

Lowell on Channing. 



nX'AN that man be dead 

w Whose spiritual influence is upon his kind? 
He lives in glory; and his speaking dust 
Has more of life than half its breathing mould. 

Landon. 



fLODDING a weary way before untried, 
It chanced I came upon a group of men 
Busy about their work with eager ken. 
I spoke to them of one who late had died. 
Knowing that he along this country-side 

Had toiled with such as these o'er hill and fen; 
Asked, Had they known my friend? O glad- 
ness, when 



42 The Dead Still Live in Their Works. 

Man after man with tender voice replied, 
And spoke his praise; told of his earnest will, 
The love which they had borne him deep 
and true. 
The generous passion of his noble skill. 
Still doing well whate'er was his to do. 
Again afoot, I said, Pray God that I 
May be so heard from when I come to die. 

John W. Chadwick. 

I^UR dead are never dead to us until we have 
vJ forgotten them. George Eliot. 



TTTHEY can be injured by us; they can be 
■^ wounded; they know all our penitence, all 
our aching sense that their place is empty; all the 
kisses we bestow on the smallest relic of their 
presence. ' Idem. 



f^TREAT souls 'can never die: 
^ Death and decay's damp fingers 
Waste but the mortal. 
A nobler life spreads its far vista wide. 
Beyond death's portal; 
Like an unfading light 
The life-work lingers. 
The hero never dies, statesman and soldier fall, 
The nation finds new life, 



The Dead Still Live in Their Works. 43 

And prosperous years and wealth and peace, 
And hearts at rest and grander aims, 

And righteousness, 
And souls that dare to be 
Just as God made them, free; 
And he who falls crushed in the bitter strife 
Lives magnified, exalted — ever lives; 
His work bears fruit immortal. 



O, MAY I JOIN THE CHOIR INVISIBLE. 

pi MAY I join the choir invisible 

^ Of those immortal dead who live again 

In minds made better by their presence; live 

In pulses stirred to generosity. 

In deeds of daring rectitude, in scorn 

For miserable aims that end in self, 

In thoughts sublime that pierce the night like stars, 

And with their mild persistence urge man's search 

To vaster uses. 

So live in heaven 
To make undying music in the world, 
Breathing as beauteous order that controls 
With growing sway the life of man. 
So we inherit that sweet purity 
For which we struggled, failed and agonized 
With widening retrospect that bred despair. 
Rebellious flesh that would not be subdued, 
A vicious parent shaming still its child. 



44 The Dead Still Live in Their Works. 

Poor anxious penitence, is quick dissolved; 

Its discords, quenched by meeting harmonies, 

Die in the large and charitable air. 

And all our rarer, better, truer self. 

That sobbed religiously in yearning song, 

That watched to ease the burthen of the world. 

Laboriously tracing what must be, 

And what may yet be better — saw within 

A worthier image for the sanctuary. 

And shaped it forth before the multitude 

Divinely human, raising worship so 

To higher reverence more mixed with love — 

That better self shall live till human Time 

Shall fold its eyelids, and the human sky 

Be gathered like a scroll within the tomb. 

Unread forever. 

This is life to come, 
Which martyred men have made more glorious 
For us who strive to follow. May I reach 
That purest heaven, be to other souls 
The cup of strength in some great agony, 
Enkindle generous ardor, feed pure love. 
Beget the smiles that have no cruelty — 
Be the sweet presence of a good diifused, 
And in diffusion ever more intense. 
So shall I join the choir invisible 
Whose music is the gladness of the world. 

George Eliot. 



The Dead Still Live in Their Works. 45 

ITH silence only as their benediction, 
'^xJl-^ God's angels come 
Where, in the shadow of a great affliction, 
The soul sits dumb. 

Yet would we say, what every heart approveth, 

Our Father's will 
Calling to Him the dear ones whom He loveth, 

Is mercy still. 

Not upon us or ours the solemn angel 

Hath evil wrought; 
The funeral anthem is a glad evangel: 

The good die not! 

God calls our loved ones, but we lose not wholly, 

What He has given; 

They live on earth in thought and deed, as truly 

As in heaven. 

J. G. Whittier. 



THE DEAD STILL LIVE IN OTHERS. 

TT7HE most beautiful metempsychosis is when we 
^ see ourselves entering into others. 

Goethe. 



fF the child of few years, the infant of few 
months, have no other immortality, it has a 
very dear and blessed one in the heavenly heart of 
its mother, an immortality of light ineffable, to 



46 The Dead Still Live in Their Works. 

which comes no shadow, or imperfection — an im- 
mortality that deepens in grace and glory as long 
as her consciousness endures. 



TTTO live in hearts we leave behind is not to- die. 
^1^ Campbell. 



^T N aged physician, who was counted an atheist, 
J^ being asked, on the death of his son, whether 
he believed him still to be living, replied, ''Yes, 
in 7?ie; in my heart he lives; and as long as I have 
thought and feeling, he will have thought and feel- 
ing in me." 



THE DEAD LIVE IN THOSE WHO LOVED 
THEM. 
epitaph. 
TTYHEY do believe me dead — I who still shed 
^^ Delight on all the world, living in thousand 
souls, 
In breasts of lovers true. No death controls, 
Taking one soul alone. I am not dead. 

Here fate has willed me ere my time to sleep; 
I am not dead, though changed my dwelling be; 
While thou dost look and weep, I rest alone in 
thee, 
Since lovers each the other's image keep. 

Michel Angelo. 



The Dead Still Live in Their Works. 47 

EAR friend, far off, my lost desire, 
So far, so near, in woe and weal; 
O, loved the most when most I feel 

There is a lower and a higher; — 

Known and unknown, human, divine. 

Sweet human hand and lips and eye. 

Dear heavenly friend that canst not die, 

Mine, mine, forever, ever mine. 

Tennyson. 



THE DEAD STILL LIVE IN THOSE LEFT 
BEHIND. 

BUT is he dead whose glorious mind 
Lifts thine on high? 
To live in hearts we leave behind 

Is not to die. 

i 



TT7H0SE we love truly never die, 
-A- Though year by year the sad memorial wreath, 
A ring and flowers, types of love and death. 
Are laid upon their graves, 
From death the pure life saves. 
And life all pure is love, and can reach 
From heaven to earth, and nobler lessons teach 
Than those by mortal read. 

John Boyle O'Reilly. 



48 The Dead Still Live in Their Works. 

EREEN be the turf above thee, 
Friend of my better days; 
None knew thee but to love thee, 
None named thee but to praise. 

FiTz Greene Halleck. 



ttiBufte, 



Honor to those ivhose words and deeds 
Have help'' d tis in our daily needs. 

And by their overjlovj 

Raised us from what is low. 

Longfellow. 



CnBufcB. 



VTTHE memorial of virtue is immortal, 
-*■ Because it is known with God and with man, 
When it is present mankind take example of it. 
And when it is gone they desire it. 
It weareth a crown, and triumpheth forever; 
Having gotten the victory, striving for undefiled 
rewards. 

The righteous shall be in everlasting remembrance. 
Yea, blessed is the memory of the just. 
Their bodies are buried in peace, 
But their name liveth forevermore. 
The people will tell of their wisdom, 
And the congregation will show forth their praise. 
The Book of Wisdom, Apocrypha. 



IN MEMORY OF J. T. F. 

MNTIL we meet again. That is the meaning 
Of the familiar words that men repeat 
At parting in the street. 
Ah yes, till then! but when death intervening 
Rends us asunder, with what ceaseless pain 
We wait for the Again! 

The friends who leave us do not feel the sorrow 
Of parting as we feel it, who must stay 
Lamenting day by day. 



52 Tributes. 

And knowing when we wake upon the morrow, 
We shall not find in its accustomed place 
The one beloved face. 

It were a double grief if the departed, 
Being released from earth, should still retain 

A sense of earthly pain; 
It were a double grief if the true-hearted. 
Who loved us here, should on the farther shore 

Remember us no more. 

Believing in the midst of our afflictions, 
That death is a beginning, not an end, 

We cry to them, and send 
Farewells, that better might be called predictions, 
Being foreshadowings of the future, thrown 

Into the vast Unknown. 

Faith overleaps the confines of our reason, 

And if by faith, as in old times was said. 

Women received their dead 

Raised up to life, then only for a season 

Our partings are, nor shall we wait in vain 

Until we meet again. 

H. W. Longfellow. 



HEN he died, though he had not been dead 
an hour, it seemed as if he had died a great 
while ago, such a distance there is between life 

and death I missed him all day long, and 

knew not till then how much I had loved him. 

Charles Lamb. 



Tributes. 53 

fiTRANDLY he loved and lived, 
*^ Not his own age alone 
Bears the proud impress of his sovereign mind, 
Down the long march of history, 
Ages and men shall see 
What one great soul can be, 
What one great soul can do 
To make a nation true; 
To raise the weak, 
The lost to seek, 
To be a ruler and a father too. 
No scheming tool, 
No slave to godless rule, 
Gracious, efficient, meek, sublime, refined. 

Ambitious — not of wealth, 
Nor power, nor place, 
Kis aim a nobler race, 
His title eminent — an honest man; 
His to lift up the rude. 
His to be great as good. 

And good as great; 
His to stem error's flood. 
His to help and bless. 
His to work righteousness. 

And save the State. 

Brave, self-reliant, wise. 
Calm in emergencies. 
Steady alike to wait, and prompt to move; 
In counsel great and safe, 



54 Tributes. 

Prudent to plan, 
Righteous to deal with sin, 
Prone less to force than win, 
Strong in his own stern will, and strong in God. 
Conquering, alone to bless — 
A loving man. 



TTTHE whole world ought to stand still a moment 
^-1-® when a noble heart ceases to beat. 



AUERBACH. 



' ND thou hast vanish'd from thine own 
i^ To that which looks like rest; 
True brother, only to be known 
By those who love thee best. 

And thro' this midnight breaks the sun 

Of sixty years away. 
The light of days when life begun, 

The days that seem to-day. 

When all my griefs were shared with thee 
And all my hopes were thine — 

As all thou wert was one with me. 
May all thou art be mine! 

Tennyson's Tribute to His Brother. 



Tributes. 55 

Ty ET simple words of truth be sung, 
-4^ For one whose years are ever young; 

Whose kindness rules her heart and tongue. 

All souls confess her gentle sway; 

As in the past, so now to-day, 

They follow where she leads the way. 

Did shadows ever veil her skies? 
New tasks and duties caught her eyes; 
Life teemed with richer ministries. 

So clouds have melted into light. 
And faith is strong and hope is bright, 
And blessings crown our friend to-night. 



TO A NOBLE WOMAN. 

^OUL to its place, dust to its kindred dust! 
^^ Such is the law, and we will not complain, 
But ever clear of Time's corroding rust, 
Thy love we cherish till we meet again. 

For through the parting veil we see thee now! 

In thy fair clime, with faith's unclouded eye; 
See thee with every charm of mind and brow. 

Baptized anew with immortality. 

And thou art risen, another, yet the same, 
Nor have we lost thee in thy heavenly birth; 

The woman there who takes the angel's name, 
Is still the same that we have loved on earth. 



56 Tributes. 

TRIBUTE TO BAYARD TAYLOR 

N the ruins of the past, 
Blooms the perfect flower at last. 

Friend, but yesterday the bells 
Rang for thee their loud farewells, 

And to-day they toll for thee 
Lying dead beyond the sea — 

Lying dead among thy books. 
The peace of God in all thy looks. 

Whittier. 



XTTHOU art not in the grave confined, 
^1.^ Death cannot claim the immortal mind; 
Let earth close o'er its sacred trust, 
But goodness dies not in the dust. 
Thee, O my sister, 'tis not thee 
Beneath the coflin lid I see; 
Thou to a fairer land art gone — 
There, let me hope, my journey done, 

To see thee still. Chas. Sprague. 



M 



HE rest that earth denied is thine, — 

Ah, is it rest? we ask, 
Or traced by knowledge more divine. 

Some larger, nobler task? 

Dr. Holmes' Tribute to Dr. Howe. 



I 



Tributes. 57 

WILL not say, -'God's ordinance 

Of death is blown in every wind," 
For that is not a common chance 
That takes away a noble mind. 

His memory long will live alone 

In all our hearts, as mournful light 

That broods above the fallen sun, 
iVnd dwells in heaven half the night. 

Words weaker than your grief would make 
Grief more. 'Twere better I should cease, 

Although myself could almost take 

The place of him that sleeps in peace. 

Sleep sweetly, tender heart, in peace: 

Sleep, holy spirit, blessed soul. 

While the stars burn, the moons increase, 

And the great ages onward roll. 

Tennyson. 



IS life was gentle, and the elements were 
'^-^So mixed in him, that nature might 
Stand up and say to all the world 
This is a man. Shakspeare. 



2T^D deeds of week-day holiness 
J^ Fell from her noiseless as the snow; 
Nor hath she ever chanced to know 
That aught were easier than to bless. 

J. Russell Lowell. 



58 Tributes. 

THE AGED GRANDMOTHER. 

[aI H, softly waves the silver hair 
^ From off that aged brow! 

That crown of glory worn so long, 
A fitting crown is now. 

That life-work, stretching o'er long years, 

A varied web has been; 
With silver strands, by sorrow wrought, 

And sunny gleams between. 

Each silver hair, each wrinkle there. 
Records some good deed done: 

Some flower she cast along the way. 
Some spark from love's bright sun. 

How bright she always made her home: 

It seemed as if the floor 
Was always flecked with spots of sun, 

And barred with brightness o'er. 

The very falling of her step 

Made music as she went; 
A loving song was on her lip, 

The song of full content. 

And now in later years, her word 

Has been a blessed thing 
In many a home, where glad she saw 

Her children's children spring. 



Tributes. 59 



Oh, gently fold the weary hands, 
That toiled so long and well; 

The spirit rose to angel bands, 
When off earth's mantel fell. 



Anon. 



IS daily prayer, far better understood 
In acts than words, was simply doing good; 
So calm, so constant was his rectitude, 
That by his loss alone we know his worth, 
And feel how true a man has walked with us 
on earth. 



©eat 5 of C^i^nn. 



From out of the mystery cometh to earth 
A new child of God through the gateway of birth. 
Out into the mystery there beyond breath 
Goes a new child of God through the gateway of death. 

M.J.S. 



©edt^ofC^tfbren. 



^TND they brought young children to Him, that 
y^^^ He should touch them: and His disciples 
rebuked those that brought them. But when Jesus 
saw it, He was much displeased, and said unto 
them, Suffer the little children to come unto me, 
and forbid them not: for of such is the kingdom 
of God. Verily I say unto you. Whosoever shall 
not receive the kingdom of God as a little child, 
he shall not enter therein. And He took them up 
in his arms, put his hands upon them and blessed 
them. 



m 



1 H, it is hard to take the lesson that such deaths 
will teach us, but let no man reject it. For it 
is one that all must learn, and is a mighty and 
universal truth. When death strikes down the inno- 
cent and the young, for every fragile form from 
which he lets the parting spirit free, a hundred vir- 
tues rise, in shapes of charity and love, to walk the 
world and bless it. Of every tear that sorrowing 
mortals shed on such green graves, some good is 
born, some gentler nature comes. In the destroy- 
er's steps there spring up bright creations that defy 
his power, and his dark path becomes a way of 
light to heaven. Dickens. 



64 Death of Children. 

TT7HERE is nothing beautiful and good that dies 
■^ and is forgotten. iVn infant, a prattling child, 
a youth well taught, will live again in the better 
thoughts of those who loved it, and will play its part, 
though its body be burned to ashes, or drowned in 
the depths of the sea. There is not an angel added 
to the hosts of heaven but does its blessed work on 
earth in those that loved it here. Dickens. 



AM all alone in my chamber now, 

And the midnight hour is near; 
And the faggots' crack and the clock's dull tick 

Are the only sounds I hear. 
And over my soul, in its solitude, 

Sweet feelings of sadness glide; 
For my heart and my eyes are full when I think 

Of the little boy that died. 

I went one night to my father's house — 

Went home to the dear ones all — 
And softly I opened the garden gate, 

And softly the door at the hall; 
My mother came out to meet her son; 

She kissed me and then she sighed; 
And her hand fell on my neck, and she wept 

For the little boy that died. 

I shall miss him when the flowers come 

In the garden where he played; 
I shall miss him more by the fireside, 



Death of Children. 65 

When the flowers are all decayed; 
I shall miss his toys and his empty chair. 

And the horse he used to ride; 
And they will speak with a silent speech 

Of the little boy that died. 

We shall go home to our Father's house — 

To our Father's house in the skies, 
Where the hopes of our soul shall have no blight, 

Our love no broken ties; 
We shall roam on the banks of the river of peace, 

And bathe in the blissful tide; 
And one of the joys of our life shall be 

The little boy that died. Dr. Chalmers. 



E 



ULL short his journey was; no dust 
Of earth unto his sandals clave; 
The weary weight that old men must, 
He bore not to the grave. 
He seemed a cherub who had lost his way, 
And wandered hither; so his stay 
With us was short, and 'twas most meet 
That he should be no delver in earth's clod, 
Nor need to pause and cleanse his feet 
To stand before his God. 



EJOR neither life nor death, nor things below, 
^ Nor things above. 

Shall ever sever them, that they should go 
From His great Love. 



66 Death of Children. 

F such is the kmgdom of heaven." The spirit 
that wings its way in innocence from the earth 
encounters its trials no more. It dwells forever in 
the serenity that God appoints for such as die pure 
as they vv^ere born. The pure has gone back to the 

pure You know not what is best for you — 

no, nor for me; but the Father for us all. 

Theodore Parker. 



DIRGE FOR A YOUNG GIRL. 
NDERNEATH the sod, low lying, 

Dark and drear, 
Sleep eth one who left in dying. 

Sorrow here. 

Yes, they're ever bending o'er her, 

Eyes that weep. 
Forms that to the cold grave over 

Vigils keep. 

When the summer moon is shining 

Soft and fair, 
Friends she loved, in tears are twining 

Chaplets there. 

Rest in peace, thou gentle spirit, 

Throned above; 
Souls like thine with God inherit 

Life and love. J as. T. Fields. 



Death of Children. 67 

FLOW'RET crushed in the bucj, 
A nameless piece of babyhood, 
Was in her cradle-coffin lying, 
Extinct, with scarce the sense of dying. 
She did but open an eye, and put 
A clear beam forth, then straight up shut 
For the long dark, ne'er more to see 
Through glasses of mortality. 

Riddle of destiny, who can show 

What thy short visit meant, or know 

What thy errand here below? 

The economy of heaven is dark. 

And wisest clerks have missed the mark. 

Why human buds like this should fall, 

More brief than fly ephemeral. 

That has his day; while shrivelled crones 

Stiffen with age to stocks and stones; 

And crabbed use the conscience sears. 

In sinners of a hundred years. Charles Lamb. 



gTND David said, While the child was yet alive 
7^1 1 fasted and wept; for I said, Who can tell 
whether God will be gracious to me, that the child 
may live? But now he is dead, wherefore should 
I fast? Can I bring him back again? I shall go 
to him, but he shall not return to me. 



68 Death of Children. 

'^fsTOD lent him and takes him," you sigh; 
'— « Nay, there let nie break with your pain 
God's generous in giving, say I, 
And the thing which He gives, I deny 

That He ever can take back again. 
He gives what He gives, everywhere. 

He lends not, but gives to the end, 
As He loves to the end. If it seem 

That He draws back a gift, comprehend 

'Tis to add to it rather — amend. 
And finish it up to your dream — 

Or keep, as a mother may toys, 

Too costly, though given by herself, 

Till the room shall be stiller from noise, 

And the children more fit for such joys 
^ Kept over their lieads on a shelf. 

Mrs. Browning. 



OFTLY, peacefully, 
' Lay her to rest; 
Place the turf lightly 

On her sweet breast; 
Gently, solemnly. 

Bend o'er the bed 
Where ye have pillowed 

Thus sadly her head. 



Death of Children. 69 

Lay the sod lightly 

Over her breast; 
Calm be her slumbers, 

Peaceful her rest. 
Beautiful, lovely, 

She was but given 
A fair bud to earth 

To blossom in heaven. 



VTYHOU bright and star-like spirit! 
ejte That in my visions wild 

I see 'mid heaven's seraphic host — 
Oh! canst thou be my child? 

My grief is quenched in wonder, 

And pride arrests my sighs; 
A branch from this unworthy stock 

Now blossoms in the skies. 

And I, thy earthly teacher, 

Would blush thy powers to see. 

Thou art to me a parent now, 

And I a child to thee. Thomas Ward. 



I 



RE sin could blight or sorrow fade, 
Death came with friendly care; 
The opening bud to heaven conveyed. 

And bade it blossom there. Coleridge. 



^tai^ of t^e @geb. 



/t is well now that the aged eyes are closed! It is well that 
the aged fiands are folded! It is well that tlie fading vesturt 
is laid aside! For onr frieiid is no longer old. 



©edt^oft^e^-geb. 



^JTND I am glad that they have lived thus long, 
/^ And glad that they have gone to their reward; 
Nor can I deem that nature did them wrong, 

Softly to disengage the vital cord. 
For when their hands grew palsied and their eyes 

Dark with the mists of age, it was their time to 
die. Bryant {changed.) 



^ IFEl we've been long together, 
i^Through pleasant and through cloudy weather; 
'Tis hard to part when friends are dear. 
Perhaps 'twill cost a sigh, a tear: 
Then steal away, give little warning. 

Choose thine own time; 
Say not ''good night," but in some brighter clime 

Bid me ''good morning." 

Mrs. Barbauld. 



(TT LIFE of truth, a heart from guile as free 

p^ In manhood and in age as infancy; 

xl brotherly affection, unconfined 

By partial creeds, and open to mankind. 

E'en here did heaven, to recompense thee, send 

Long life uncensured and a tranquil end. 



74 Death of the Aged. 

DEATH AT NINETY. 

jpF no distemper, of no blast he died, 

^ But fell like autumn fruit that mellowed long; 

Even wondered at because he dropped no sooner. 

Fate seemed to wind him up for four score years; 

Till, like a clock worn out with eating time, 

The wheels of weary life stood still. 

Dryden, 



TOOTHING can bereave him 
^]i Of the force he made his own, 



Being here, and we believe him 

Something far advanced in state. 

And that he wears a truer crown 

Than any wreath that man can weave him. 



r^ROW old along with me! 
l^The best is yet to be, 
The last of life for which the first was made; 
Our times are in his hand. 
Who saith ''A whole I planned; 
Youth shows but half; trust God; see all; nor be 
afraid." Robert Browning. 



VTYHE evening shadows of age are long and cold. 
^■^^ but they all point towards a morning. 

J EAN Paul Richter. 



Death of the Aged. 

WAIT AND TRUST. 

T^^^ITH calm and padent trust I wait 
^jt-JL- The slow and sure approach of fate. 
What may betide me where I go 
I know not, and I need not know. 
I know my Maker kind and just, 
This is enough; I calmly trust. 

My eyes are dim to things around, 
My ears are dull to common sound; 
And yet, far-gleaming on my sight, 
I think I see a surer light. 
And hear harmonious wavelets beat 
Prelude of something strangely sweet. 

I long a higher life to know; 
To better thoughts I fain would grow; 
God gave the hope: He must ordain 
The hope He gave shall not be vain. 
Therefore that higher life must be; 
His justice is my guaranty. 

I seek no aid from churchly creed. 
Life's daily facts supply my need. 
That He is just and kind I know; 
My life's experience proves it so. 
Doubt hath no place. No ill abides 
Where J^e, the just and kind, presides. 

Then pass, ye earthly things, away! 
Sink, toil-Tv^orn frame, to swift decay; 



76 Death of the Aged. 

The parting clouds unveil the light, 
And clearer vision glads my sight, 
Long-waiting soul, be of good cheer, 
The end draws nigh, thy hope is near. 

Daniel Mann, M. D. {aged 74.] 



[Cherished and revered! fond memory well 
U On thee with sacred sad delight may dwell! 
So pure, so blest thy life, that death alone 
Could make snore perfect happiness thine own. 
He came — thy cup of joy, serenely bright, 
Full to the last, still flow'd in cloudless light; 
He came — an angel bearing from on high 
The all it wanted — Immortality. 



(T^ REATNESS and goodness are not means, but 
lil endsj 

Hath he not always treasures, always friends. 
The great, good man? Three treasures — love and 
light 
And calm thoughts, regular as infant's breath. 
And three firm friends, more sure than day and 
night — 
Himself, his INIaker, and the angel Death. 

Coleridge. 



"T 3 



NOBLE old age is not the decline of life, 
but the dawn of immortality. 

Madame De Stael. 



Death of the Aged. 77 

A JOYOUS FAITH. 

J FEEL in myself the future life. I am like a 
^ forest which has been more than once cut down. 
The new shoots are stronger and livelier than ever. 
I am rising, I know, toward the sky. The sun- 
shine is on my head. The earth gives me its gen- 
erous sap, but Heaven lights me with the reflection 
of unknown worlds. You say the soul is nothing 
but the resultant of bodily powers. Why, then, is 
my soul the more luminous when my bodily powers 
begin to fail? Winter is on my head, and eternal 
spring is in my heart. Then I breathe at this 
hour, the fragrance of the lilacs, the violets and 
the roses, as at twenty years. The nearer I 
approach the end the plainer I hear around me 
the immortal symphonies of the worlds which 
invite me. It is marvelous, yet simple. It is a 
fairy tale, and it is history. For half a century I 
have been writing my thoughts in prose, verse, 
history, philosophy, drama, romance, satire, ode, 
song — I have tried all. But I feel I have not said 
the thousandth part of what is in me. When I go 
down to the grave I can say, like so many others, 
"1 have finished my day's work;" but I cannot 
say, 'T have finished my life." My day's work 
will begin again the next morning. The tomb is 
not a blind alley; it is a thoroughfare. It closes 
in the tv\^ilight to open with the dawn. I improve 
every hour because I love this world as my father- 



78 Death of the Aged. 

land. . . . My work is only beginning. My mon- 
ument is hardly above its foundation. I would be 
glad to see it mounting and mounting forever. 
The thirst for the infinite proves infinity. 

Victor Hugo. 

YrYHE lengthening shadows of a green old age 
'^^^ Stole peacefully upon him, day by day, 
And virtues no one saw gave life's fair page 

A freshness which survives the heart's decay: 
And so at last, as he had lived, he went 
To reap the promise of a life well spent. 

'Tis meet that in the evening of his days 
He thus should pass from us to his reward; 

When the heart falters and the frame decays, 
It is not death, but life, that seemeth hard. 

And long the spirit sighs beneath the load. 

To join the blest in their serene abode. 

Rockwell. 



TV ESS hard and sharp it is to death to bow 
^^ As growing age longs for its needful sleep. 
Where true life is, safe from the senses now. 

Full ninety times in ocean's deep recess 

Of cooling shade, the sun his torch had laid, 

Ere peace divine thy weary heart did bless. 

Divine thou art! Death of death's power is shorn, 
Nor fearest thou life's changes evermore; 
I v/rite almost with envy here forlorn. 

Michel Axgelo on the Death of his Father. 



Death of the Aged. 79 

YTYHERE is, after all, something tenderly appro- 
^^ priate in the serene death of the old. Nothing 
is more touching than the death of the young and 
beautiful. But when the duties of life have been 
nobly done, when the sun touches the horizon, 
when the purple tvrilight falls upon the present, 
the past and the future, when memory with dim 
eyes can scarcely spell the records of the vanished 
days, then, surrounded by friends, death comes 
like a strain of music — it is a welcome relief. The 
day has been long, the road weary, and we gladly 
stop at the inn. Ingersoll. 



OW fares it with our liege? 
Nay, doubting soul. 
Not thus; but grandly raised to noble height 
Of strength and power and most divine delight, 
At one swift breath made beautiful and whole! 
Nor mocked by broken hope or shattered plan. 
By some pale ghost of duty left undone, 
By haunting moments, wasted one by one. 

But crowned with that which best becometh man. 



(JT WHITE-HAIRED man 

/^ Pithy of speech, and merry when he would; 

A genial optimist, and daily drew 

From_ what he savv, his quaint moralities, 

Bryant. 



I 



Death of the Aged. 
OLD AGE. 

NOUGH that blessings undeserved 
Have marked my erring track; 
That wheresoe'er my feet have swerved, 
His chastening turned me back; 

That more and more a Providence 

Of love is understood, 
Making the springs of time and sense 

Sweet with eternal good; 

That death seems but a covered way 

Which opens into light, 
Wherein no blinded child can stray 

Without the Father's sight; 

That care and trial seem at last, 

Through Memory's sunset air, 
Like mountain ranges overpast, 

In purple distance fair. 

That all the jarring notes of life 

Seem blending in a psalm, 
And all the angles of its strife 

Slow rounding into calm. 

And so the shadows fall apart. 

And so the west-winds play; 
And all the windows of my heart 

I open to the day. j. g. Whittier. 



Death of the Aged. 8i 

EHOLD, fond man, 
See here thypictured life: pass some few years, 
Thy flowering spring, thy summer's ardent 

strength. 
Thy sober autumn fading into age, 
And pale concluding winter comes at last. 
And shuts the scene. Thomson 



HY light upon our evening pour — 
So may our souls no sunset see; 

But death to us an open door 
To an eternal morning be. 



t^t Suture £ife. 



J^ear not to build thy ao'ie in the Jieights 

Where golden splendors lay. 

And trust thyself unto thine in7nost soul 

In simple faith alway; 

And God will make divinely real 

The highest form of thine ideal. 



€U Suture &tfe. 
feongings an^ ©esires. 



plH, have you not a life within 
^ That asks another life 

For its unfolding? 
Hast thou not felt thy soul to swell 
And press against the limiting earth? 
Hast never thirsted for a perfect truth? 
Hast never longed to meet with what should fill 
Full to its large desire, thy sense of praise? 

Sarah Flower Adams. 



^AVE we not all, amid life's petty strife, 
^^^ Some purer ideal of a nobler life 
That once seemed possible? 
Did we not hear the flutter of its wings, 
And feel it near, and just within our reach? 

But still our place is kept, and it will wait 

Ready for us to fill it, soon or late. 

No star is lost we once have seen; 

We always may be what we might have been; 

The good, though only thought, has life and breath; 

God's life can always be redeemed from death; 



86 The Future Life. 

And evil in its nature is decay, 

And any hour can blot it all away. 

The hopes, that lost on some far distance seem. 

May be the truer life. 

And this the dream. 



"i^F all the myriad moods of mind 

That through the soul come thronging, 
Which one was e'er so dear, so kind, 

So beautiful as longing? 
The thing we long for, that we are 

For one transcendent moment. 
Before the present, poor and bare, 

Can make its sneering comment. 

Still, through our paltry stir and strife. 

Glows down the wished ideal. 
And longing molds in clay what life 

Carves in the marble real. 
To let the new life in, we know 

Desire must ope the portal; 
Perhaps the longing to be so 

Helps make the soul immortal. 

Longing is God's fresh heavenward will; 

With our poor earthward striving, 
We quench it that we may be still, 

Content with merely living. 
But would we learn that heart's full scope 

Which we are hourly wronging, 



Longings and Desires. 87 

Our lives must climb from hope to hope 
And realize our longing. 

Ah! let us hope that to our praise 

Good God not only reckons 
The moments that we tread His ways, 

But when the spirit beckons. 
That some slight good is also wrought 

Beyond self satisfaction, 
When we are simply good in thought, 

Howe'er we fail in action. j. r. Lowell. 



^ H, sweet are the scents and songs of spring. 

And brave are the summer flowers; 
And chill are the autumn winds that bring 

The winter's lingering hours. 
And the world goes round and round, 

And the sun sinks into the sea; 
And whether I'm on or under the ground. 

The world cares little for me. 

The hawk sails over the sunny hill; 

The brook rolls on in the shade; 
But the friends I have lost lie cold and still 

Where their stricken forms were laid. 
And the world goes round and round. 

And the sun slides into the sea; 
And whether I'm on or under the ground; 

The world cares little for me. 



88 The Future Life. 

O life, why art thou so bright and boon! 

O breath, why art thou so sweet! 
O friends, how can ye forget so soon 

The loved who lie at your feet! 
But the world goes round and round, 

And the sun drojDS into the sea, 
And whether I'm on or under the ground, 

The world cares little for me. 

The ways of men are busy and bright; 

The eye of woman is kind: 
It is sweet for the eyes to behold the light, 

But the dying and dead are blind. 
And the world goes round and round. 

And the sun falls into the sea. 
And whether I'm on or under the ground. 

The world cares little for me. 

But if life awake, and will never cease 

On the future's distant shore, 
And the rose of love and the lily of peace 

Shall bloom there forevermore. 
Let the world go round and round. 

And the sun sink into the sea! 
For whether I'm on or under the ground. 

Oh, what will it matter to me? 

J. G. Holland. 



fT makes one feel more certain of another life 
to see how unfinished and unsatisfactory some 
things are here. C. C. Leighton. 



Longings and Desires. 89 

0TND still, when all is thought and said, 
/^ The heart still overrules the head; 

Still what we hope we must believe, 

And what is given us receive. 

Must still believe, for still we hope, 
That in a world of larger scope. 
What here is faithfully begun 
Will be completed, not undone. 



HATEVER crazy sorrow saith, 
No life that breathes with human breath 
Has ever truly longed for death. 

'Tis life, whereof our nerves are scant, 
O, life, not death, for which we pant; 
More life and fuller, that we want. 

Tennyson. 



^HEN man at length his ideal height hath 
gained. 

So that the heavenly kingdom is attained. 
Will there be room for tears and pain. 
For dim gray twilights, sobbing wind, and rain, 
Mist, wreaths and flying clouds, the thunder's roar, 
Or the sea breaking on a lonely shore, 



90 The Future Life. 

With all the yearnings these things shadow forth? 

Is the pathetic minor but for earth, 

And will the heavens resound with joy alone, 

Though sadness often makes a deeper tone? 

Must all of life fall off that cannot show 

Some fruit that did to full perfection grow? 

The tottering steps, the pause, even the fall, — 

Will not eternal life have time for all? 

And in the circle of infinity, 

Must not all moods of life unfolded lie. 

But all complete, the weak within the strong, 

And the one verse become a perfect song; 

The bud, the blossom, the fruit-laden bough. 

Seen by the light of the eternal 7ww? 

May not all discords to one concord lead. 

Whose every missing note would leave a need 

Deep, unimagined as a world untrod, — 

An infinite harmony whose name is God? 

Spectator. 



fO one can deny, who is not prejudiced by the 
low theological view of our nature, that it is 
capable of greatness of character. In every age 
there have been men who have forgotten self for 
the sake of right and truth, and for a noble cause, 
even though the self-forgetfulness meant death, — 
men whose glory shines with the serene light of 
stars in the sky which arches over history. Others, 
too, have been whose path has lain apart from 



Possibilities and Probabilities. 91 

fame, the quiet martyrs of self-surrender, who have 
died to the joys of life for the sake of others' joys, 
or borne, in the eloquent silence of resignation, 
bitter pain and grief. And has all that perished 
for them? Has the noble effort and the faithful 
life been in vain for those who lived it? Are they 
only to live in our memory and love, but they 
themselves ''to be blown about the desert dust or 
sealed within the iron hills?" It revolts all our 
moral feeling, if we believe in a moral God. 
Either there is no God, whose children we are, or 
the denial of immortality is absurd. There is 
nothing between atheism and immortality. 

Stopford Brooke. 

TT must be so! Plato, thou reasonest vv'ell. 

-*- Else whence this pleasing hope, this fond desire 

This longing after immortality? 

Or whence the secret dread and inward horror 

Of falling into nought? Why shrinks the soul 

Back on itself, and startles at destruction? 

'Tis the divinity that stirs within us; 

'Tis heaven itself that points an hereafter. 

And intimates eternity to man. Addison. 



ra ATURE has her periodic deaths; but the laws 
i-/ of life are stronger than the laws of death, and 
to every grave of winter comes the spring which is 
Nature's resurrection. W. j. Potter. 



92 The Future Life. 

YTYHIS great green worm will have its wings, 
^1® And, by-and-by, 

This ugliest of crawling things 

Will flash and fly 
Beyond the flowers and water-springs, 
And seek the sky. 

This bird, featherless and bare. 

That shivers here. 
And lives, because of parent care, 

In cold and fear, 
Shall presently, upon the air, 

Go far and near. 

Why shall not I shake off at last 

This crawling shell, 
Which binds my best endeavors fast 

And bars my cell. 
And, to the heaven of ages vast, 

Cry, ''It is well"? 

Shall God repress the nobler thing 

From loftier ways? 
Shall God refuse the freer wing 

In endless days? 
Shall not this callow creature sing 

At length his praise? 



93 

(^ (Jtece00ifi? of &ut Qtaturee. 

fOETHE saw clearly that the hope of immor- 
tality is a necessity of our nature. In his 
< 'Conversation with Eckerman/' he says: "The 
belief in Immortality corresponds with the wants 
of man's nature. To me the eternal existence of 
the soul is proved from my idea of activity. If I 
work on incessantly until my death I am confident 
that Nature will give me another form of existence 
when the present one can no longer sustain my 
spirit. And who will not work and act indefati- 
gably to the end of his days when he finds therein 
the pledge of an eternal life?" 



VTTHAT there is an unseen world, an ideal world, 

^-^ a world of possibilities^ cannot be questioned 

by thoughtful minds. Who can doubt of it save 

such as are perfectly satisfied with themselves, 

who ask for nothing more than they have, aspire 

to nothing more than they are? 

O. B. Frothingham. 



THINK all sound mmds rest on certain pre- 
liminary conviction, namely, that if it be best 
that conscious personal life shall continue, it will 
continue; if not best, then it will not; and if we 
saw the whole, should of course see that it was 
better so. Emerson. 



94 The Future Life. 

XTTHE poet of In Memoriam sums it all up in 
^^ these lines which go to the root of the ques- 
tion: 

"Thou will not leave us in the dust; 
Thou madest man, he knows not why. 
He thinks he was not made to die; 
And thou hast made him! Thou art just." 



T70R life to me is as a station 

^^ Wherein apart a traveler stands; 

One absent long from home and nation. 
In other lands; 

And I, as he who stands and listens 
Amid the twilight's chill and gloom, 

To hear, approaching in the distance, 
A train for home. 



fEOPLE sometimes talk of the extravagance of 
expecting a future life. I frankly confess that 
in a universe like this nothing in the way of ex- 
pectation seems extravagant. In a universe that 
has done so much, that has manifested so much, 
there is nothing that is not rational to hope for. 
As Thomas Paine remarked many years ago, 
there is nothing more wonderful about a life to 
come than there is about the fact that we are alive 
now. There is nothing that we may not trust that 
an infinite universe will unfold and reveal. 

M. J. Savage. 



A Necessity of Our Natures: 95 

'TILL seems it strange that thou shouldst live 

' forever? 

Is it less strange that thou shouldst live at all? 

This is a miracle; and that no more. 

Young. 



qr EEING that all that the longest life and most 
^^ vigorous intellect can give him power to dis- 
cover serves only to place him on the bare frontier 
of knowledge and afford a distant glimpse of bound- 
less realms beyond, is it wonderful that a being 
thus constituted should first encourage a hope, 
and by degrees acknowledge, an assurance that 
his intellectual existence will not terminate with 
the dissolution of his corporeal frame, but rather 
in a future state of being, disencumbered of a 
thousand obstructions, endowed with acuter senses 
and higher faculties, he shall drink deep at that 
fountain of benificent Wisdom, of which the slight 
taste obtained on earth has given him so keen a 
relish? Sir John Herschel. 

XT is because I believe that the ends of justice 
^ and an ideal society of the good are the ends 
of the Universe, that I believe in immortality. 

\Y. ]ST. Salter. 



AJUR dissatisfaction with any other solution is 
the blazing evidence of our immortality. 

Emerson. 



96 The Future Life. 

^_SKED from this world's standpoint if there 
J'^\ is no life beyond the grave, if there is no im- 
mortality, if all spiritual calculation is to end here, 
why, then the mighty work of God is all to end in 
nothingness. But if this is a state of infancy, 
only the education for eternity, in which the soul 
is to gain its wisdom and experience for higher 
work, then to ask why such a mind is taken from 
us is just as absurd as to question why the tree of 
the forest has its first training in the nursery gar- 
den. This is but the nursery ground, from whence 
we are to be transplanted into the great forest of 
God's eternal universe. F. W. Robertson. 



H sometimes comes to soul and sense 
The feeling which is evidence 
That very near about us lies 
The realm of spiritual mysteries. 

The sphere of the supernal powers 
Impinges on this world of ours. 
The low and dark horizon lifts, 
To light the scenic terror shifts; 

The breath of a diviner air 
Blows down the answer of a prayer; 
That all our sorrow, pain, and doubt, 
A great compassion clasps about, 

And law and goodness, love and force. 
Are wedded fast be3-ond divorce. 



Meeting of Friends. 97 

Then duty leaves to love its task, 
The beggar Self forgets to ask; 

With smile of trust and folded hands, 
The passive soul in waiting stands, 
To feel, as flowers the san and dew, 
The one true Life its own renew. 

J. G. Whittier. 



(jXtutirxQ of Snen^0. 



^OW shall I know thee in the sphere which keeps 
LvJ. The disembodied spirit of the dead. 
When all of thee that time can wither sleeps 
And perishes among the dust we tread? 

For I shall feel the sting of ceaseless pain 
If there I meet thy gentle presence not. 

Nor hear the voice I love, nor read again 
In thy serenest eye the tender thought. 

Will not thy own meek heart demand me there, 
That heart whose fondest throbs to me were 
given? 

My name on earth was ever in thy prayer. 
And wilt thou never utter it in heaven? 

In meadows fanned by heaven's life-breathing 
wind. 

In the resplendence of that glorious sphere. 
And larger movements of the unfettered mind. 

Wilt thou forget the love that joins us here? 



98 The Future Life. 

The love that lived through all the stormy past, 
And meekly with thy harsher nature bore, 

And deeper grew, and tenderer to the last — 
Shall it expire with life and be no more? 

A happier lot than mine and larger light 

Await thee there; for thou hast bowed thy will 

In cheerful homage to the rule of right. 
And lovest all and renderest good for ill. 

Yet though thou wear'st the glory of the sky, 
Wilt thou not keep the same beloved name, 

The same thoughtful brow and gentle eye. 
Lovlier in Heaven's sweet climate, yet the 
same? William Cullen Bryant. 



S, when the friends we dearly love 

Have gone beyond the sea. 
The far-off lands in which they bide 

More real get to be: 

So when our loved ones once have crossed 

Death's lone and silent sea, 
And in a country new and strange 

Found Immortality, 

The heavenly land in which they bide, 

Which erst did ever seem 
An unsubstantial pageant vast, 

A dreamer's idle dream, — 



Meeting of Friends. 99 

Becomes as solid to my soul 

As is the earth I tread, 
What time I walk with reverent feet 

The city of the dead. 

And not so sure am I that whom 

The Atlantic's waves divide 
Will meet again some happy day, 

And linger side by side 

As that the day shall surely come 

W^hen I with all I love, 
Shall meet again, and clasp and kiss, 

In that dear land above. 

T. W. Chadwick. 



UR beloved have departed 
While we tarry heavy-hearted, 

In the dreary, empty house; 
They have ended life's brief story, 
They have reached the home of glory. 

Over death victorious. 

On we haste, to home invited, 
There with friends to be united 

In a surer bond than here; 
Meeting soon and met forever; 
Glorious hope forsake us never. 

For thy glimmering light is dear. 



loo The Future Life. 

Ah! the way is shining clearer, 
As we journey ever nearer 

To the everlasting home; 
Comrades, who await our landing. 
Friends, who round the throne are stand- 
ing, 

We salute vou, and we come. 



TTYHE fiat of death is inexorable. No appeal for 
■^ relief from that great law which dooms us to 
dust. We flourish and fade as the leaves of the 
forest, and the flowers that bloom, wither and fade 
in a day have no frailer hold upon life than the 
mightiest monarch that ever shook the earth with 
his foot-steps. 

Generations of men will appear and disappear 
as the grass, and the multitude that throng the 
world to-day will disappear as footsteps on the 
shore. Men seldom think of the great event of 
death until the shadow falls across their own path- 
way, hiding from their eyes the faces of loved ones 
whose living smile was the sunlight of their exist- 
ence. Death is the antagonist of life, and the 
thought of the tomb is the skeleton of all feasts. 

We do not want to go through the dark valley 
although its dark passage may lead to paradise; 
we do not want to go down into damp graves, even 
with the princes for bed-fellows. In the beautiful 



Meeting of Friends. ioi 

drama of Ion, the hope of immortality, so elo- 
quently uttered by the death-devoted Greek, finds 
deep response in every thoughtful soul. When 
about to yield his life a sacrifice to fate, his Cle- 
manthe asks if they should meet again, to which 
he responds: ^'I have asked that dreadful question 
of the hills that look eternal; of the clear streams 
that flow forever; of stars among whose fields of 
azure my raised spirits have walked in glory; all 
are dumb. But as I gaze upon thy living face, I 
feel that there is something in love that mantles 
through its beauty that cannot wholly perish. We 
shall meet again Clemanthe." 

Geo. D. Prentice. 



ILT thou not ope thy heart to know 
What rainbows teach and sunsets show? 
Verdict which accumulates 
From lengthening scroll of human fates, 
Voice of earth to earth returned, 
Prayers of saints that inly burned- 
Saying, What is excellent 
As God lives is permanent; 
Hearts are dust, heart's loves remain; 
Heart's love will meet thee again. 

Emerson. 



I02 The Future Life. 



Y sprightly neighbor, gone before 
To that unknown and silent shore, 
Shall we not meet, as heretofore, 

Some summer morning. 
When from thy eyes a ray 
Hath struck a bliss upon the day, 
A bliss that would not go away, 

A sweet forewarning? 



Charles Lamb. 



LAS for him who never sees 
^The stars shine through his cypress trees 
Who, hopeless, lays his dead away, 
Nor looks to see the breaking day 
Across the mournful marbles play! 
The truth to flesh and sense unknown, 
That life is ever lord of death. 
And love can never lose its own! 

J. G. Whittier. 



Sc^ifd ^n^ ttUBt 



We have but faith; we cannot know; 

For knowledge is of things we see; 

And yet we trust it comes from Thee, 
A beam in darkness — let it grow. 

Tennyson. 



iaitg <Jinb trust. 



H, be sure of this: 

xA.ll things are mercies while we count them so, 

And this believing, not keen poverty 

Nor wasting years of pain nor slow disease, 

Nor death, 
Shall ever drift our bark of Faith ashore, 
Whose steadfast anchor is securely cast 
Within the veil of things unseen. 
Which now we know not, 
But shall know hereafter. 



MBOSOMED deep in Thy dear love, 
^ Held in Thy law I stand; 
Thy hand in all things I behold. 
And all things in thy hand. 



Anonymous. 



^ 



LL as God wills; who wisely heeds 

To give or to withhold, 
And knoweth more of all my needs 

Than all my prayers have told. 

J. G. Whittier. 



To6 Faith and Trust. 



Y bark is wafted to the strand 

By breath divine; 
And on the helm there rest a hand 

Other than mine. Dean Alford. 



AKE a little fence of trust 

Around to-day; 
Fill the space with loving words, 

And therein stay. 

Look not through the sheltering bars 

Upon to-morrow; 
God will help thee bear what comes 

Of joy or sorrow. 



I YET we trust that somehow good 
' Will be the final goal of ill, 

To pangs of nature, sins of will, 
Defects of doubt and taints of blood. 

That nothing walks with aimless feet; 
That not one life shall be destroyed, 
Or cast as rubbish to the void, 

When God shall make the pile complete. 

Behold, we know not anything; 
I can but trust that good shall fall 
At last — far off — at last, to all, 

And every winter change to spring. 

Tennyson. 



Faith and Trust. 107 

EACH night is followed by its day^ 
Each storm by fairer weather, 
While all the works of nature sing 

Their psalms of joy together. 
Then learn, O heart, their songs of hope! 

Cease, soul, thy thankless sorrow; 
For though the clouds be dark to-day, 

The sun shall shine to-morrow; 
Learn well from bird and tree and rill. 

The sins of dark resentment, 
And know the greatest gift of God 
Is faith and sweet contentment. 

J. Edgar Jones 



'HATE'ER God does is fitly done. 
And all for wisest reasons; 

By best of paths he leads me on, 
And at the darkest seasons; 

I find his grace in every place. 
And conscious of his keeping, 
I change to joy my weeping. 

Whate'er God does is fitly done. 

His cup — shall I refuse it 
Because it is a bitter one? 

He sees it best — I choose it. 
And he at last will make me rest 

Where duty has no trials, 

And needs no self-denials. 



io8 Faith and Trust. 



KNOW there are no errors 

In the great Eternal plan, 
And all things work together 

For the final good of man. 
And I know when my soul speeds onward 

In the grand eternal quest, 
I shall say, as I look earthward, 

Whatever is, is best. 

'OROAI transient evil I do trust 
^^ That we a final good shall draw; 
That in confusion, death and dust, 
Are light and law. 



^E think heaven will not shut forevermore 
Without a knocker left upon the door, 
Lest some belated wanderer should come 
Heart-broken, asking just to be at home, 
So that the Father will at last forgive, 
And looking in His face, that soul shall live. 

We think there will be watchmen through 

the night, 
Lest any afar off turn them to the light; 
That He who loved us into life must be 
A Father, infinitely fatherly. 
And groping for Him, all shall find their way 
From outer dark, through twilight into day. 

Gerald Massey. 



Faith and Trust, 109 

VTTHE flowers that shine about our feet 
®'^ Slept safe in Winter's keeping, 
And woke to-day to fragrant life 
More sweetly for their sleeping. 

What though we find the changeful sun 

His weary charge forsaking, 
We '11 lay us down in hopeful rest, 

And dream of brighter waking. 



EIFE is a riddle hard to read — 
Finding no answer we think of God. 
All the wheels of the universe 
Faithfully follow his guiding rod. 

F. L. Gardner. 



I 



N the brief space that lies 'twixt morn and eve. 
Some tree of life may bloom, some hopes maj 
grow, 

Some clear persuasion that the bliss we leave, 
Is but a gleam of that to which we go. 

E. D. R. BlANCIARDI. 



E dead leaves, dropping soft and slow. 
Ye mosses green and lichens fair, 

Go to your graves, as I will go; 
For God is also there. 

M. MULOCH 



no Faith and Trust. 



MARVEL seems the universe, 
A miracle our life and death; 
A mystery which I cannot pierce, 
Around, above, beneath. 

Yet in the maddening maze of things, 
And tossed by storm and flood. 

The one fixed stake my spirit clings: 
I know that God is good. 

J. G. Whittier. 



XT7HE kingdom that I seek 
"^-^ Is thine; so let the way 
That leads to it be also thine, 
Else I shall surely stray. 

Smooth let it be, or rough. 

It still will be the best; 
Winding or straight, it matters not; 

It leads me to thy rest! 



NE adequate support 
For the calamities of mortal life 
Exists, one only; an assumed belief 
That the procession of our fate howe'er 
Sad or disturbed, is ordered by a Being 
Of infinite benevolence and power. 
Whose everlasting purposes embrace 
All accidents, converting them to good. 

Wordsworth. 



Faith AND Trust. hi 

^ITH patient heart thy course of duty run, 
God nothing does, nor suffers to be done, 
But thou wouldst do thyself, if thou couldst only see 
The end of all he does, as well as he. 



'HEN then at last the solemn hour shall come, 
And wing my mystic flight to future worlds, 
I cheerful will obey; there, with new powers 
Will rising wonders sing: I cannot go 
Where Universal Love smiles not around. 
Sustaining all yon orbs and all their suns; 
From seeming evil still educing good, 
And better thence again, and better still. 
In Infinite Progression. 

Thompson's Seasons. 



J'E are not bound. The soul of things is sweet, 
The heart of being is celestial rest; 

Stronger than woe is will; that which was good 
Doth pass to better — best. 

Before beginning and without an end, 
As space eternal and as surety sure, 

Is fixed a Power divine, which moves to good; 
Only its laws endure. 

This is its touch upon the blossomed rose; 

The fashion of its hand shaped lotus leaves; 
In dark soil and the silence of the seeds 

The robe of Spring it weaves. 



112 Faith and Trust. 

That is its painting on the glorious clouds, 
And these its emeralds on the peacock's train; 

It hath its stations in the stars; its slaves 
In lightning, wind, and rain. 

Out of the dark it wrought the heart of man; 
Out of dull shells the pheasant's pencilled 
neck; 
Ever at toil, it brings to lovliness 
All ancient wrath and wreck. 

Edwin Arnold. 



I 



THE GOOD GOD OVER ALL. 

LITTLE child, beneath a tree, 

Sat and chanted cheerily 

A little song, a pleasant song, 

Which was — she sang it all day long — 

''When the wind blows the blossoms fall, 

But a good God reigns over all." 

There passed a lady by the way, 
Moaning in the face of day; 
There were tears upon her cheek. 
Grief in her heart too great to speak; 
Her husband died but yester-morn. 
And left her in the world forlorn. 

She stopped and listened to the child, 

That looked to Heaven, then, singing, smiled; 



Faith and Trust. 113 

And saw not, for her own despair, 
Another lady, young and fair. 
Who, also passing, stopped to hear 
The infant's anthem ringing clear. 

For she, but few sad days before, 

Had lost the little babe she bore; 

And grief was heavy at her soul. 

As that sweet memory o'er her stole. 

And showed how bright had been the past, 

The present drear and overcast. 

And as they stood beneath the tree. 
Listening, soothed and placidly, 
A youth came by, whose sunken eyes 
Spake of a load of miseries; 
And he, arrested like the twain, 
Stopped to listen to the strain. 

Death had bowed the youthful head 
Of his bride beloved — his bride unwed; 
Her marriage robes were fitted on, 
Her fair young face with blushes shone, 
When the destroyer smote her low, 
And left the lover to his woe. 

And these three listened to the song. 
Silver-toned, and sweet and strong. 
Which that child the live-long day 
Chanted to itself in play: 
'^When the wind blows the blossoms fall. 
But a good God reigns over all." 



114 Faith AND Trust. 

The widow's lips impulsive moved; 
The mother's grief, though unreproved, 
Softened, as her trembling tongue 
Repeated what the infant sung; 
And the sad lover with a start, 
Conned it over in his heart. 

And though the child — if child it were 

And not a seraph sitting there — 

Was seen no more, the sorrowing three 

Went on their way resignedly, 

The song still ringing in their ears — • 

Was it the music of the spheres? 

Who shall tell? They did not know; 
But in the midst of deepest woe 
The strain recurred when sorrow grew, 
To M'arn them and console them too: 
''When the wind blows the blossoms fall, 
But a good God reigns over all." 

Charles Mackay. 



WE GAIN BY LOSING. 

'•'■Love, lost or won, is corinti ess gain.'''' 

UT looking backward through his tears, 
~^J With vision of maturer scope. 
How often our dead joy appears 
The platform of some better hope! 



Faith and Trust. 115 

And, let us own, the sharpest smart 
Which human patience may endure, 

Pays light for that which leaves the heart 
More generous, dignified, and pure. 

Learn by a mortal yearning, to ascend, 

Seeking some higher object. Love was given, 

Encouraged, sanctioned, chiefly for that end; 
For this the passion to excess was driven, 

That self might be annulled; her bondage prove 
The fetters of a dream opposed to love! 
Coventry Patmore. 



I 



HOLD it true, whate'er befall; 

I feel it when I sorrow most; 

'Tis better to have loved and lost 
Than never to have loved at all. 

Tennyson. 



[TLAS! By some degree of woe 
L^ We every bliss must gain; 

The heart can ne'er a transport know, 
That never feels a pain. 

Lord Lyttelton. 



T singeth low in every heart. 
We hear it each and all — 
A song of those who answer not, 
However we may call. 



ii6 Faith and Trust. 

They throng the silence of the breast; 
We see them as of yore, 
The kind, the brave, the true, the sweet, 
Who walk with us no more. 

More home-like seems the vast unknown, 
Since they have entered there; 
To follow them were not so hard, 
AVherever they may fare. 

They cannot be where God is not. 
On any sea or shore; 
Whate'er betides, thy love abides. 
Our God, for evermore. 

J. W. Chadwick. 



^OUL to its place, dust to its kindred dust! 

«^ Such is the law and we will not complain; 
But ever clear of Time's corroding rust, 
Thy love we cherish till we meet again. 

For through the parting veil we see thee now! 
In thy fair clime, with faith's unclouded eye, 
See thee with every charm of mind and brow 
Baptized anew in immortality. 

And thou art risen, another, and yet the same, 
Nor have we lost thee in thy heavenly birth; 
The friend now there who takes the angel's 

name, 
Is still the friend that we have loved on earth. 



feife in t^iB <Worf^. 



fVe are part and parcel of all that has been, of all that IS, 
of all that shall be. The past has served us; the present serves 
us; and the future is for us also. The Eternal is ours. 



MetnC^tBnrorfi. 



E live in deeds, not years; in thoughts, not 
breath; 

In feelings, not in figures on a dial: 
We should count time by heart throbs. 

He most lives 
Who thinks most, feels noblest, acts the best. 

Festus. 



I 



COUNT this thing to be grandly true: 
That a noble deed is a step toward God, 
Lifting the soul from the common sod 
To a purer air and a broader view. 

Holland. 



EET me but think I am helping to make this 
world more habitable for future generations, 
and the thought will inspire me in life and sustain 
my spirit when my last hour draws near. 



F I promote human welfare in this life as far as 

I have the opportunity or discernment of it, I 

shall deserve another life, if there is one and shall 

have fitted myself for it in the best way, and the 

only way open to me. 

George Jacob Holyoke. 



:o Life in This World. 

T is not the goal but the course which makes us 
happy. Jean Paul Richter. 



HAT help in a comrade's bugle blast 
When the peril of Alpine heights is past? 
What need the spurring paean roll 
When the runner is safe beyond the goal? 
What worth is eulogy's blandest breath 
When whispered in ears that are hushed in death? 
Nay! nay! if thou hast but a word of cheer 
Speak it while I am alive to hear! 

Margaret J. Preston. 



N the darkest hour through which a human soul 
can pass, whatever else is doubtful, this at 
least is certain: if there be no God and no future 
state, yet even then it is better to be generous than 
selfish, better to be chaste than licentious, better 
to be true than false, better to be brave than to be 
a coward. F. W, Robertson. 



EAD, kindly Light; amid the encircling gloom 
Lead thou me on. 
The night is dark, and I am far from home; 

Lead thou me on; 
Keep thou my feet. I do not ask to see 
The distant scene; one step enough for me. 

J. H. Newman. 



Life in This World. 121 

0NE can despair of immortality and not despair 
of life and its sufficient consolations. The 
trust in immortality does not appear to me the 
deepest, the most religious trust. The deepest, 
the most religious trust is that we shall be immor- 
tal if it is best for us to be. I have a friend who 
says, ''I cannot trust in God, unless I can be sure 
of immortality." I have another friend who says, 
'^I do not want it if He does not think it would 
be good for me." Which is the more religious? 

J. W. Chadwick. 



EORRECT information respecting the kind of 
body we are to have in another life, even if 
we could get it, would have but small influence in 
determining what we shall do with the body we 
have in this. 



f RE-EXISTENCE and post-existence are be- 
yond our ken; let us make the most of exist- 
ence. F. E. Abbot. 



Watchfulness is the path of immortality; 
slothfulness the way of death; the slothful 
are as if already dead. 



WILL not take a heaven haunted by shrieks 
Of far-off misery. George Eliot. 



122 Life in This World. 

fT matters not how a man dies, but how he lives. 
The act of dying is not of importance — it lasts 
so short a time. Dr. Johnson. 



I 



HAD rather die a sinner, than live one. 

Theodore Parker. 



FAITHFUL TO THE LAST. 



T,F I were told that I must die to-morrow, 

-t That the next sun 

Which sinks should bear me past all fear and sorrow 

For any one, 
All the fight fought, all the short journey through; 

What should I do? 

I do not think I should shrink or falter; 

But just go on, 
Doing my work, nor change nor seek to alter 

Aught that is gone; 
But rise and move and love and smile and pray 

For one more day. 

And lying down at night for a last sleeping. 

Say in that ear 
Which barkens ever; ''Lord, within Thy keeping, 

How should I fear? 
A.nd when to-morrow brings Thee nearer still. 

Do Thou Thy will." 

[ might not sleep for awe, but peaceful, tender, 
My soul would lie 



Life in This World. 123 

All night long, and when the morning splendor 

Flashed o'er the sky, 
I think that I could smile — could calmly say 

It is His day. 

But if instead a hand from the blue yonder 

Held out a scroll, 
On which my life was writ, and I with wonder 

Beheld unroll 
To a long century's end its mystic clew. 

What should I do? 

What could I do, O blessed Guide and Master, 

Other than this: 
Still to go on as now, not slower, faster. 

No fear to miss 
The road, although so very long it be, 

While led by Thee? 

Step by step, feeling Thee close beside me. 

Although unseen, 
Through thorns, through flowers, whether the tem- 
pest hide Thee 

Or heavens serene. 
Assured Thy faithfulness cannot betray, 

Thy love decay. 

I may not know, my God; no hand revealeth 

Thy counsels wise; 
Along the path a deepening shadow stealeth, 

No voice replies 



124 Life in This Wolrd. 

To all my questioning thought, the time to tell, 
And it is well. 

Let me keep on, abiding and unfearing 

Thy will always. 
Through a long century's ripening fruition. 

Or a short day's. 
Thou canst not come too soon; and I can wait 

If Thou come late. 

Susan Coolidge. 



E live no more of our time than we spend 
^" well. Carlyle. 



A GOOD WISH OF ONE ABOUT TO DIE. 

HY need I seek some burden small to bear 

Before I go? 
Will not a host of noble souls be here, 

God's will to do? 
Men of strong hands, unfailing, unafraid? 

anxious soul! What matters my small aid. 

Before I go? 

1 tried to find, beneath earth's shadows grim. 

Before I go. 
The path of Christ's pure life. The light was dim: 
I do not know 



Life in This World. 125 

If I have found e'en footprints of the way. 
I searched with zeal, I can in good sooth say, 
Before I go; 

I sought through Nature, truth to find; I said, 

''Before I go, 
If I might help in the good Master's stead, 

God's thought to show;" 
But I was weak; oft times I missed the way. 
Men need a stouter guide; for that I pray. 

Before I go. 

Would I might sing the world some song of cheer 

Before I go! 
But still the chords ring false — some jar of fear, 

Some jangling woe! 
The saddest is I cannot weave one chord 
To float into their hearts my last warm word, 

Before I go. 

I would be satisfied if I might tell 

Before I go. 
That one warm word — how I have loved them well; 

Ah, loved them so! 
And would have done for them some little good; 
Have sought it long — still seek if but I could, 

Before I go. 

'Tis a child's longing on the beach at play: 

''Before I go," 
He begs the beckoning mother, "let me stay 

One shell to throw. " 



126 Life in This World. 

•'Nay, night comes on; the great sea climbs the 

shore." 
^'Oh, let me toss one little pebble more 
Before I go!" 



his span of life was lent 
For lofty duties, not for selfishness. 
Not to be whiled away in aimless dreams; 
But to improve ourselves and serve mankind, 
Life and its choicest faculties were given. 
Man should be ever better than he seems, 
And shape his acts, and discipline his mind 
To walk adorning earth, with hope of heaven. 
Sir Aubrey de Vere. 



&mnci fo Sini^^ ^e*6 <Wor^. 



flCHx^RD Henry Green, the historian, had a 
strong desire to complete his ''Conquest of 
England" before he died. 'T have work to do 
that I know is good," he said, when he heard that 
he had only a few days to live; 'T will try to win 
but one week more to write some part of it down. " 
As death drew near, he said for the last time: 
''Now I am weary; I can work no more." 



Living to Finish One's Work. 127 

f NEVER could under any circumstances feel 
the slightest dread of death as such. In all 
my illness I have ever had the most intense desire 
to be released from life, unchecked by any save 
one wish, namely, to be able to finish my work. 

COLP^RIDGE. 



^TLMOST the last conscious words of the histo- 
^ rian, Buckle, were, <'My book! My book!" 
Thus he died as he lived, nobly, careless of him- 
self, and thinking only of the thing vrhich he had 
undertaken to do. y. a. Froude. 



^AID the aged Thomas Carlyle just before his 
-^ death: ''Go on and work with all your will; 

uproot error; as for me — ah, I cannot 

work much more, and that of all grieves me before 
going." 



nyHOSE who make earnest and diligent use of 
^-*- the present time, are not apt to be troubled 
vvith idle fears for their future. 



E are not anxious about livins?, but about 



C35 



living well. Socrates. 



128 Life in This World. 

(TTQ live that when thy summons comes to join 

-^ The innumerable caravan, that halts 

One night only in the vale of death, 

Then strikes its white tents for the morning march, 

Thou shalt march onward to the eternal hills 

With step unwearied and with strength renewed, 

Like the strong eagle's for the upward flight. 

Anonymous. 



QTO live that when thy summons comes to join 
^^ The innumerable caravan, which moves 
To that mysterious realm where each shall take 
His chamber in the silent halls of death, 
Thou go not, like the quarry slave at night. 
Scourged to his dungeon; but sustain'd and soothed 
By an unfaltering trust, approach thy grave 
Like one who wraps the drapery of his couch 
About him, and lies down to pleasant dreams. 

Bryant. 

TRIBUTE TO A GOOD MAN DEPARTED. 



I 



F there's another world, he lives in bliss; 
If there is none, he made the best of this. 



TT7HE noble house of Nature which we inhabit 

■^ has temporary uses, and we can afford to leave 

it one day, as great conquerors have burned their 

ships when once landed on the wished-for shore. 

Emerson. 



Living to Finish One's Work. 129 

WHAT I LIVE FOR. 

LIVE for those who love me, 

For those I know are true, 
For the heaven that smiles above me, 

And awaits my spirit, too; 
For all human ties that bind me, 
For the tasks by God assigned me. 
For the bright hours left behind me, 

And the good that I can do. 

I live to learn the story. 

Who 've suffered for my sake, 

To emulate their glory, 
And follow in their wake; 

Bards, martyrs, patriots, sages, 

The noble of all ages. 

And Time's great volume make. 

I live to hail that season. 

By gifted minds foretold. 
When men shall live by reason, 

And not alone by gold; 
When man to man united. 
And every wrong thing righted. 

As Eden was of old. 

I live to hold communion 

With all that is divine. 
To feel there is a union 

'Twixt Nature's heart and mine; 



Life in This World. 

To profit by affliction, 
Grow wiser from conviction, 
And fulfill each great design. 

I live for those who love me, 

For those who know me true, 
For the heaven that smiles above me, 

And awaits my spirit, too; 
For wrongs that need resistance, 
For the cause that lacks assistance, 
For the future in the distance, 
And the good that I can do. 

. Dr. Bangs and Wife. 



Sot t^e ®eab. 



speak to Him, thott, for He hears, and Spirit 

wilh Spirit can meet — 
Closer is He than breathing, and nearer than 

hands and feet. 



Tennyson. 



S>r f^e ®eab. 



RAY for the dead! No voice can say, 
That they have lost the need of prayer; 

And heaven is so far away 

That earth is imremembered there. 

The golden links that bound our love 
Were moulded by the hand of God; 

And prayer drew up the chain above, 
And fastened it to his abode. 

And prayer shall keep our love secure, 

And bind us still with sacred ties, 
And future intercourse insure • 

Among the heavenly harmonies. 

The Spirit's life is large and fair, 

Nor limited by human creed; 
And none shall fix a bound for prayer. 

Except the common bound of need. 

From The Christian Register. 



OW can I cease to pray for thee? Somewhere 
In God's great universe thou art to-day; 
Can He not reach thee with His tender care ? 
Will He not hear me when for thee I pray? 



134 For the Dead. 

What matters it to Him, who holds within 
The hollow of His hand all worlds, all space, 

That thou art done with earthly pain and sin? 
Somewhere within His ken thou hast a place. 

Somewhere thou livest, and hast need of Him; 

Somewhere thy soul sees higher heights to climb: 
And somewhere, still, there may be valleys dim 

That thou must pass to reach the hills sublime. 

Then all the more because thou canst not hear 
Poor humble words of blessing will I pray. 

O true, brave heart! God bless thee, wheresoe'er 
In His great universe thou art to-day. 



XT^HEY passed away from sight and hand, 
^-^^ A slow, successive train: 

To memory's heart a gathered band, 
Our lost ones come again. 

Their spirits up to God we gave, 

With eyes as wet as dim. 
Confiding in His power to save; 

For all do live to Him. 

Beyond all we can know or think. 

Beyond the earth and sky, 
Beyond time's lone and dreaded brink. 

Their deathless dwellings lie. 



For the Dead. 135 

Dear thoughts that once our union made, 

Death does not disallow: 
We prayed for them while here they stayed, 

And what shall hinder now? 

Our Father, give them perfect day, 

And portions with the blest; 
Oh pity, if they went astray, 

And pardon for the best! 

As they may need, still deign to bring 

The helpings of Thy grace, 
The shadow of Thy guardian wing, 

The shinings of Thy face. 

For all their sorrows here below 

Be boundless joy and peace; 
For all their love a heavenly glow 

That nevermore shall cease. 

N. L. Frothingham. 



JaI thou, before whom we would ofttimes make 
^ mention in our prayer of those who are dear 
to us, and of all for whom our heart moves us to 
ask Thy help and blessing; as thus we pray for Thy 
children who are living with us here on earth, so 
we would also remember before Thee those who 
have been taken from our mortal sight, and have 
passed through the valley of the shadow of death 
into the world that lies bevond. We commend 



136 For the Dead. 

them to Thy fatherly care, even to that divine 
providence which surrounded their earthly way. 
Thou wilt grant to those who sought Thee here, 
the blessed vision of Thy brighter presence, and 
to those who obeyed Thee in humility and love, 
the call to a higher service. Thou canst renew 
the strength that failed on earth; Thou canst re- 
store the purity that was soiled, and give light to 
the mind that was blinded, and change the heart 
that was turned from Thee. Oh, continue Thou 
Thy mercies and loving-kindnesses to those whom 
here Thou couldst never forsake. And may we, 
in all our present work and striving, in our glad- 
ness or sorrow, in all the deepest experiences of 
our life here below, be kept in a true fellowship of 
spirit with the departed, and be sustained by the 
joyful expectation of meeting again, and of being 
joined with them in still closer and dearer bonds 
of love and holy service. Amen. 



Qgifife (S^^a^in^B, 



And everywhere the Spirit walks 
The garden of the hearty and talks 
With man, as tinder Eden' s trees. 
In all his varied languages. 

Whittier. 



QStBfe (geabittgB. 



Tv ORD, thou hast been our dwelling place in all 
-^•^ generations. 

Before the mountains were brought forth, or ever 
thou hadst formed the earth and the world, even 
from everlasting to everlasting thou art God. 

Thou turnest men to destruction; and sayest, 
Return, ye children of men. 

For a thousand years in thy sight are but as 
yesterday when it is past, and as a watch in the 
night. 

Thou carriest them away as Avith a flood; they 
are as a sleep: in the morning they are like grass 
which groweth up. 

In the morning it flourisheth, and groweth up; 
in the evening it is cut down, and withereth. 



T^OR thou knowest our frame; thou rememberest 
^^ that we are dust. 

As for man, his days are as grass: as a flower of 
the field, so he flourisheth. 

For the wind passeth over it, and it is gone; and 
the place thereof shall know it no more. 

But the mercy of the Lord is from everlasting 
to everlasting upon them that fear him, and his 
righteousness unto children's children. 



I40 Bible Readings. 

To such as keep his covenant, and to those that 
remember his commandments to do them, 

The Lord hath prepared his throne in the heav- 
ens; and his kingdom riileth over all. 



Try HE voice said. Cry. And he said, What shall 
■*- I cry? All flesh is grass, and all the goodli- 
ness thereof is as the flower of the field: 

The grass withereth, the flower fadeth: because 
the spirit of the Lord bloweth upon it: surely the 
people is grass. 

The grass withereth, the flower fadeth: but the 
word of our God shall stand forever. 



HEREFORE, if God so clothe the grass of 
the field, which to-day is, and to-morrow is 
cast into the oven, shall he not much more clothe 
you, O ye of little faith? 



EJOR which cause we faint not; but though our 
^ outward man perish, yet the inward man is 
renewed day by day. 

For our light affliction, which is but for a mo- 
ment, worketh for us a far more exceeding and 
eternal weight of glory. 

While we look not at the things which are seen: 
but at the things which are not seen: for the things 



Bible Readings. 141 

which are seen are temporal: but the things which 
are not seen are eternal. 



TTTHE Lord is my shepherd: I shall not want. 

"J- He maketh me to lie down in green pastures; 

He leadeth me beside the still waters. 

He reviveth my soul; 

He leadeth me in the paths of righteousness, 

For his name's sake. 

Yea, though I walk through the valley of the sha- 
dow of death, 

I will fear no evil; for thou art with me; 

Thy rod and thy staff they comfort me. 

Thou preparest a table before me 

In the presence of mine enemies. 

Thou anointest my head with oil; 

My cup runneth over. 

Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the 
days of my life, 

And I shall dwell in the house of the Lord forever. 



NE thing have I desired of the Lord, that will 
I seek after; that I may dwell in the house of 
the Lord all the days of my life, to behold the 
beauty of the Lord, and to enquire in his temple. 

For in the time of trouble he shall hide me in 
his pavilion; in the secret of his tabernacle shall 
he hide me; he shall set me upon a rock. 



142 Bible Readings. 

T7 ET not your heart be troubled; ye believe in 
^^ God, believe also in me. 

In my Father's house are many mansions. 



i^OR we know that if our earthly house of this 
•^ tabernacle were dissolved, we have a building 
of God, an house not made with hands, eternal in 
the heavens. 

For in this we groan, earnestly desiring to be 
clothed upon with our house which is from heaven; 

If so be that being clothed we shall not be found 
naked. 

For w^e that are in this tabernacle do groan, be- 
ing burdened; not for that we would be unclothed, 
but clothed upon, that mortality might be swal- 
lowed up of life. 



AN Cometh forth like a flower, and is cut down. 
He fleeth as a shadow, and continueth not. 
In the midst of life we are in death. 
There is but one step between me and death. 
Men dwell in houses of clay whose foundation is in 

the dust. 
Ye know not what shall be on the morrow. 
For what is your life? A vapor that appeareth for 

a little time and then vanisheth away. 
The grass withereth; the flower fadeth; but 
The word of our God endureth forever. 



Bible Readings. 143 

aND I heard a voice out of heaven saying: The 
tabernacle of God is with men; he shall dwell 
with them; they shall be his people; God himself 
shall be with them, and be their God. 

With thee is the fountain of life; in thy light 
shall we see light. 

And God shall wipe away all tears from their 
eyes; and there shall be no more death, neither 
sorrow, nor crying, neither shall there be any more 
pain: for the former things are passed away. 



1|)EMEMBER now thy Creator in the days of 
J^ thy youth, while the evil days come not, nor 
the years draw nigh, when thou shalt say, I have 
no pleasure in them; 

While the sun, or the light, or the moon or the 
stars be not darkened, nor the clouds return after 
the rain; 

In the day when the keepers of the house shall 
tremble, and the strong men shall bow themselves, 
and the grinders cease because they are few, and 
those that look out of the windows be darkened. 

And the doors shall be shut in the streets, when 
the sound of the grinding is low, and he shall rise 
up at the voice of the bird, and all the daughters 
of music shall be brought low; 

Also when they shall be afraid of that which is 
high, and fears shall be in the way, and the almond 



144 Bible Readings. 

tree shall flourish, and the grasshopper shall be a 
burden, and desire shall fail: because man goeth 
to his long home, and the mourners go about the 
streets: 

Or ever the silver cord be loosed, or the golden 
bowl be broken, or the pitcher be broken at the 
fountain, or the wheel broken at the cistern. 

Then shall the dust return to the earth as it was; 
and the spirit return unto God who gave it. 



RESURRECTION. 

fOW that the dead are raised, even Moses shewed 
at the bush, vrhen he calleth the Lord the God 
of Abraham, and the God of Isaac, and the God 
of Jacob. 

For he is not a God of the dead, but of the liv- 
ing: for all live unto him. 

But some will say, How are the dead raised up? 
and with what body do they come? 

That which thou sowest, thou sowest not that 
body that shall be, but bare grain, it may chance 
of wheat, or of some other grain; 

But God giveth it a body as it hath pleased him, 
and to every seed its own body. 

There are also celestial bodies, and bodies ter- 
restrial: but the glory of the celestial is one, and 
the glory of the terrestrial is another. 



Bible Readings. 145 

There is one glory of the sun, and another glory 
of the moon, and another glory of the stars; for 
one star differeth from another star in glory. 

So also is the resurrection of the dead. It is 
sown in corruption, it is raised in incorruption: 

It is sown in dishonor, it is raised in glory: it 
is sown in weakness, it is raised in power: 

It is sown a natural body, it is raised a spiritual 
body. 

Howbeit that was not first which is spiritual, but 
that which is natural; and afterward that which is 
spiritual. 

As is the earthy, such are they also that are 
earthy, and as is the heavenly, such are they also 
that are heavenly. 

And as we have borne the image of the earthy, 
we shall also bear the image of the heavenly. 

Now this I say, brethren, that flesh and blood 
cannot inherit the kingdom of God; neither doth 
corruption inherit incorruption. 

For this corruptible must put on incorruption, 
and this mortal must put on immortality. 

But when this corruptible shall have put on in- 
corruption, and this mortal shall have put on im- 
mortality, then shall be brought to pass the saying 
that is written. Death is swallowed up in victory. 

For in the resurrection they neither marry, nor 
are given in marriage, but are as the angels of God 
in heaven. 



146 Bible Readings. 

Neither can they die any more: for they are 
equal unto the angels; and are the children of God, 
being the children of the resurrection. 

For none of us liveth to himself, and no man 
dieth to himself. 

For whether we live, we live unto the Lord; and 
whether we die, we die unto the Lord; whether 
we live therefore, or die, we are the Lord's. 

For thou wilt not leave my soul in the grave; 
neither wilt thou suffer thine Holy One to see cor- 
ruption. 

Thou wilt shew me the path of life: in thy pres- 
ence is fulness of joy: at thy right hand there are 
pleasures for evermore. 



CHASTENING. 

Y SON, despise not thou the chastening of the 
Lord, nor faint when thou art rebuked of 
him: 

For whom the Lord loveth he chasteneth, and 
scourgeth every son whom he receiveth. 

If ye endure chastening, God dealeth with you 
as with sons; for what sdn is he whom the father 
chasteneth not? 

But if ye be without chastisement, whereof all 
are partakers, then are ye not sons. 

Furthermore, we have had fathers of the flesh 
which corrected us, and we gave them reverence: 



Bible Readings. 147 

shall we not much rather be in subjection to the 
Father of Spirits and live? 

For they verily for a few days chastened us after 
their own pleasure; but he for our profit, that we 
might be partakers of his holiness. 

Now no chastening for the present seemeth to 
be joyous, but grievous: nevertheless afterward it 
yieldeth the peaceable fruit of righteousness unto 
them which are exercised thereby. 



TEMPTATION— HOPE OF DELIVERANCE. 

XT7HERE hath no temptation taken you but such 
■*^ as is common to man; but God is faithful, 
who will not suffer you to be tempted above what 
ye are able; but will with the temptation make a 
way to escape, that ye may be able to bear it. 

For I reckon that the sufferings of this present 
time are not worthy to be compared with the glory 
which shall be revealed in us. 

For the earnest expectation of the creature wait- 
eth for the manifestation of the sons of God. 

For the creature was made subject to vanity, 
not willingly, but by reason of him who hath sub- 
jected the same in hope; 

Because the creature itself also shall be deliv- 
ered from the bondage of corruption into the 
glorious liberty of the children of God. 



148 Bible Readings. 

For we know that the whole creation groaneth 
and travaileth in pain together until now. 

And not only they, but ourselves also, which 
have the first-fruits of the spirit, even we ourselves, 
groan within ourselves, waiting for the adoption, 
to-wit, the redemption of our body. 

For we are saved by hope; but hope that is seen 
is not hope; for what a man seeth, why doth he 
yet hope for? 

But if we hope for that we see not, then do we 
with patience wait for it. 

In all these things we are more than conquerors 
through him that loved us. 

For since the beginning of the world men have 
not heard, nor perceived by the ear, neither hath 
the eye seen, O God, beside thee, what he hath 
prepared for him that waiteth for him. 

Who hath saved us, and called us with an holy 
calling not according to our works, but according 
to his own purpose and grace, which was given us 
before the world began. 

But is now made manifest by the appearing of 
our Saviour Jesus, who hath abolished death, and 
brought life and immortality to light through the 
gospel. 

Through the tender mercy of our God, whereby 
the dayspring from on high hath visited us. 

To give light to them that sit in darkness and in 



Bible Readings. 149 

the shadow of death, to guide our feet into the way 
of peace. 

Who shall separate us from the love of God ? 
shall tribulation, or distress, or persecution, or 
famine, or nakedness, or peril, or sword ? 

Nay, in all these things we are more than con- 
querors through him that loved us. 

For I am persuaded that neither death nor life, 
nor angels, nor principalities, nor powers, nor 
things present, nor things to come, 

Nor height, nor depth, nor any other creature 
shall be able to separate us from the love of God, 
who is the blessed and only Potentate, the King of 
kings, and Lord of lords; 

Who only hath immortality, dwelling in the 
light which no man can approach unto; whom no 
man hath seen, nor can see; to whom be honor 
and power everlasting. 



EXHORTATION. 

OJEEING we are compassed about with such a 
^^ cloud of witnesses let us run with patience the 
race set before us. 

Whatsoever things are true, and whatsoever 
things are honest; whatsoever things are just, and 
whatsoever things are pure; whatsoever things are 
lovely and of good report, if there is any virtue or 
any praise think of these things. 



150 Bible Readings. 

BEATITUDES. 

^LESSED are the poor in spirit: for theirs is the 
^ kingdom of heaven. 
Blessed are they that mourn: for they shall be 
comforted. 

Blessed are the meek; for they shall inherit the 
earth. 

Blessed are they which do hunger and thirst 
after righteousness: for they shall be filled. 

Blessed are the merciful: for they shall obtain 
mercy. 

Blessed are the pure in heart: for they shall see 
God. 

Blessed are the peacemakers: for they shall be 
called the children of God. 

Blessed are they which are persecuted for 
righteousness sake: for theirs is the kingdom of 
heaven. 

Blessed is the man whom thou chastenest, O 
Lord, and teachest him out of thy law; 

That thou mayest give him rest from the days of 
adversity. 

Blessed is the man that endureth temptation: 
for when he is tried, he shall receive the crown of 
life, which the Lord hath promised to them that 
love him. 

And I heard a voice from heaven saying unto 
me, Write, blessed are the dead which die in the 
Lord from henceforth: Yea, saith the Spirit, that 



Bible Readings. 151 

they may rest from their labors; and their works 
do follow them. 



J^OME unto me, all ye that labor and are heavy 
w laden, and I will give you rest. 

Take my yoke upon you, and learn of me; for I 
am meek and lowly in heart: and ye shall find rest 
unto your souls. 

For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light. 



TOEHOLD what manner of love the Father hath 
J^ bestowed upon us, that we should be called 
the sons of God: therefore the world knoweth us 
not, because it knew him not. 

Beloved, now are we the sons of God, and i1 
doth not yet appear what we shall be: but we kno\^ 
that, when he shall appear, we shall be like him: 
for we shall see him as he is. And every man thai 
hath this his hope purifieth himself, even as he is 
pure. 



Tv ORD, who shall abide in thy tabernacle? who 
i^ shall dwell in thy holy hill? 

He that walketh uprightly, and worketh 
righteousness and speaketh the truth in his 
heart. 

Wherefore by their fruits ye shall know them. 



152 Bible Readings. 

Not every one that saith unto me, Lord, Lord, 
shall enter into the kingdom of heaven; but he 
that doeth the will of my Father which is in 
heaven. 

Mark the perfect man, and behold the upright: 
for the end of that man is peace. 

Blessed are they that do his commandments, 
that they may have right to the tree of life, and 
may enter in through the gates into the city. 



TTTOR we know in part, and we prophesy in part. 
^^ But when that which is perfect is come, then 
that which is in part shall be done away. 

When I was a child, I spake as a child, I under- 
stood as a child, I thought as a child: but when I 
became a man, I put away childish things. 

For now we see through a glass, darkly; but then 
face to face: now I know only in part; but then 
shall I know even as also I am known. 



FOR A CHILD. 
ND David said, While the child was alive, I 
fasted and wept; for I said, Who can tell 
whether God will be gracious to me, that the child 
may live? 

But now he is dead, wherefore should I fast? 
Can I bring him back again? I shall go to him, 
but he shall not return to me. 



Bible Readings. 153 

In Rama was there a voice heard, lamentation, 
and weeping, and great mourning, Rachel weeping 
for her children, and would not be comforted, be- 
cause they are not. 

Through the tender mercy of our God the day- 
spring from on high hath visited us, to give light 
to them that sit in darkness and in the shadow of 
death, to guide our feet into the way of peace. 

And they brought young children unto him, that 
he should touch them; and his disciples rebuked 
those that brought them. But when Jesus saw it 
he was much displeased, and said unto them, 

Suffer the little children to come unto me, and 
forbid them not; for of such is the kingdom of 
God. Verily I say unto you. Whosoever shall not 
receive the kingdom of God as a little child, he 
shall not enter therein. 

And he took them up in his arms, put his hands 
upon them, and blessed them. 

And Jesus called a little child unto him, and set 
him in the midst of them, 

And said, Verily I say unto you, except ye be 
converted, and become as little children, ye shall 
not enter into the kingdom of heaven. 

Whosoever therefore shall humble himself as 
this little child, the same is greatest in the king- 
dom of heaven. 

And whoso shall receive one such little child in 
my name receiveth me. 



dXi f ^ (Btatje. 

O, Grave, where is thy victory? 



I. 

TfTHEN shall the dust return unto the earth as it 
^ was: and the spirit shall return to God who 
gave it. 



TT7AKE this, O Death, and bear away 
®iL® Whatever thou canst call thine own; 
Thine image, stamped upon this clay, 
Doth give thee this, and this alone. 

Longfellow. 



fN committing these remains to the earth, well 
may we give God thanks for the good example 
of those, who, having pursued their course with 
diligence, and finished it with joy, have laid down 
the burden of the flesh, and entered into their rest. 
May their mantle continue in the midst of us, 
and may we so live that our own labors shall be 
held in grateful remembrance when the places 
which now know us shall know us no more. 



YTTHE Lord bless us and keep us: The Lord 
-^ make his face to shine upon us, and be 
gracious unto us: The Lord lift the light of his 
countenance upon us, and give us peace. 



158 At the Grave. 

11. 

T is written ''Dust thou art and unto dust shalt 



I 



thou return. 



'E reverently commit this body to the ground 
'^yL)L^ whence it came: earth to earth — ashes to 
ashes — and dust to its kindred dust; yet in the 
hope of that great change which is the resurrection 
of life, wherein the corruptible shall put on incor- 
ruption, aad the mortal shall put on immortality. 



ITHIN the maddening maze of things, 

And tossed by storm and flood. 
To one fixed stake my spirit clings: 
I know that God is good. 

I long for household voices gone, 
For vanished smiles I long; 

But God hath led my dear ones on. 
And he can do no wrong. 

I know not what the future hath 

Of marvel or surprise. 
Assured alone that life and death 

His mercy underlies. 

And if my heart and flesh are weak 

To bear an untried pain, 
The bruised reed he will not break. 

But strengthen and sustain. 



At the Grave. 159 

And so beside the silent sea 

I wait the muffled oar; 
No harm from him can come to me 

On ocean or on shore. 

I know not where his islands lift 

Their fronded palms in air; 

I onl)'' know I cannot drift 

Beyond his love and care. 

Whittier. 



PRAYER. 

BLESSED be thy name, O Lord, for the assur- 
ance of eternal life; for the faith that when 
the night of the grave is past, a glorious morning 
will come, when thou shalt wipe away all tears 
from our eyes, and there shall be no more death, 
neither sorrow, nor crying, nor pain. Let this 
immortal hope sustain us in our bereavement. 
May we embrace thy promises, and be thankful; 
may we know that thou art God, and be still. 

Grant us that we sorrow not as those who have 
no hope, but as those who are parted for only a 
season from the beloved, and who look for re- 
union in a better and brighter and more perfect 
life to come. 

May the peace of God, which passeth under- 
standing, and the comfort of the Holy Spirit, be 
in your hearts always. Amen. 



i6o At the Grave. 

III. 

^OME of the great religious ideas which are 
^^ held to be of Christian origin are yet of re- 
mote antiquity. It gives a wonderful sense of the 
longevity of human faith, to find our ancestors 
before the Hebrew psalmists and prophets were 
born, using a service like this at the burial of their 
dead: 

''Open thy arms, O earth! Receive the dead 
With gentle pressure and with loving welcome! 
Embrace him tenderly, e'en as a mother 
Folds her soft vestments round the child she loves! 

And do thou, O mighty God, 

Intrust him to thy guards to bring him to thee, 
And grant him health and happiness eternal." 



fN the Rig- Veda is a hymn still used at Hindu 
funeral services, in which are the following 
stanzas: 

''Approach thou now the lap of earth, thy mother. 
The wide extending earth, the ever-kindly; 
A maiden soft as wool to him who comes with gifts, 
She shall protect thee from destruction's bosom. 
Open thyself, O Earth, and press not heavily! 
Be easy of access and of approach to him; 
As a mother with her robe, her child. 
So do thou cover him, O Earth!" 



At the Grave. i6i 

EACEFUL be thy silent slumber, 

Peaceful in the grave so low; 
Thou no more wilt join our number, 

Thou no more our songs shalt know. 

Yet again we hope to meet thee, 

When the day of life is fled, 
Then, in heaven with joy to greet thee. 
Where no farewell tear is shed. 



Tv ORD most merciful, prepare us for the upward 
Xil journey, and bring us at last into that higher 
life in which darkness and death shall be unknown 
and sorrow and sighing shall flee away. Amen. 



IV. 



VTYHEN shall the dust return to the earth as it 
®IL® was. 



^TLL that is brought hither is of the earth, 
1^^^ earthy; yet even the body in its silence and 
dust, may claim our peculiar respect as having 
been the tabernacle of a spirit that shall never die. 
It is not superstition, but religion, which subdues 
us into the stillness of awe in the presence of 



i62 At the Grave. 

death and impels us reverently to regard the in- 
sensible form, not because of what it is, but of 
what it was. It is hence that this grave becomes 
sacred, and this burial place is invested with the 
solemnity of holy ground. 

Yet "^'not here, but risen," is to be our thought. 
''The spirit shall return to God who gave it." 
And ''when this corruptible shall have put on in- 
corruption, then shall be brought to pass the say- 
ing that is written, Death is swallowed up in vic- 
tory." So hence, 

''From transient evil let us trust 

That we a final good shall draw; 

That in confusion, death and dust, 
Are light and law." 



BENEDICTION. 

'AY the peace of God, which passeth under- 
standing, and the comfort of the Holy Spirit, 
be in all our hearts evermore. Amen. 



V. 

A BRAHMAN BURIAL SERVICE. 

EARTH ! to thee we commend our brother 
Of thee he was formed, by thee he was sus 
tained, and unto thee he now returns. 

O Fire! thou hadst a claim on our brother dur- 



At the Grave. 163 

ing life. He subsisted by thy influence in nature; 
to thee we commit his body, thou emblem of purity; 
may his spirit be purified on entering a new state 
of existence! 

O Air! while the breath of life continued, our 
brother respired by thee; his last breath is now 
departed, to thee we yield him. 

O Water! thou didst contribute to the life of 
our brother; thou wert one of his sustaining ele- 
ments. His remains are now dispersed: receive 
thy share of him who has now taken his everlast- 
ing flight. Conway's Anthology. 



(gi f ae dStaiK of a Cm^* 



XrfHlS hallowed spot where rest the forms of 
®-i-^ those once and ever dear, admonishes us how 
all — the high and the low, the rich and the poor, 
the old and the young, are alike subject to the 
call and the power of death. In all this. Nature 
has her purposes; the Father of all his perfect end 
to accomplish. Tenderly and submissively we 
consign the mortal form of this dear child to its 
rest, and go away again to the work and duties of 
life — to our places in the world and our service to 
the living. 



1 64 At the Grave. 

^O bitter tears for thee be shed, 
Blossom of being, seen and gone! 
With flowers alone we strew thy bed, 

O blest departed one, 
Whose all of life, a rosy ray. 
Blushed into dawn, and passed away. 

Thy grave shall be a blessed shrine 
Adorned with Nature's brightest wreath; 
Each glowing season shall combine 

Its incense there to breathe; 
And oft upon the midnight air 
Shall viewless harps be murmuring there. 



T^tTTAY the peace of God which passeth under- 
^E^ standing comfort all our sorrows and abide 
in all our homes and hearts forevermore. Amen. 



HEY who stand with breaking hearts around 
- this little grave need have no fear. The large 
and noble faith in all that is and is to be, tells us 
that death even at its worst is only perfect rest. 
We know that through the common wants of life — 
the needs and duties of each hour — their grief will 
lessen day by day, until at last this grave will be 
to them a place of rest and peace — almost of joy. 
There is for them this consolation: The dead 



At the Grave. 165 

do not suffer. If they live again, their lives will 
surely be as good as ours. 

We have no fear; we are all children of the same 
mother, and the same fate awaits us all. We, too, 
have our religion, and it is this: Help for the liv- 
ing, hope for the dead. r, g. i. 



^vai^ete. 



Give soj'roza coords; the gJ'ief that does not speak 
Whispers the o'' er-fraught heart and bids it break. 

Shaksfeare. 



(prager0. 



BY J. F. 

THOU who art infinite in thy power, thy wis- 
dom and thy love: may we be enabled to 
acquit ourselves as becomes thy servants in the 
warfare of life, to run and not be weary, to walk 
and not faint, and to pass from glory to glory till 
we are transfigured at last into the perfect image 
of thy spirit. Then when thou hast finished thy 
work with us on earth, when the clods of the valley 
are sweet to our weary frame, may our soul go 
home to thee, and so may we spend eternity in the 
progressive welfare which thou appointest for thy 
children. And here on earth may the gleams of 
that glory come upon us, strengthening our heart 
when it is weak within us, that so day by day we 
may grow to higher heights, and to a nobler ser- 
vice in thy kingdom here, that this earthly life may 
be one with the life eternal. Amen. 

Altered from Theodore Parker, 



THOU whose life is our life, whose strength 
is our strength, day by day may we pass from 
the glory of a good beginning to the glory of a 



lyo Prayers. 

noble end, and vrhen we have well served thee with 
these mortal bodies, may we lay them in the dust, 
and clothed with immortality, rise upward and 
evermore to thee. Amen. 



ITTATHER of our spirits: who art unto these frail 
^^ bodies the breath of life: we rejoice to think 
of thee as having a purpose in the existence of 
this outer tabernacle, and also in its appointed 
dissolution. "We rejoice that as from thee we 
came, to thee we return when the period of our 
dwelling in the flesh has ended. "We rejoice to go 
back to thee who art perfect — who art unchanging 
light— who art our eternal life. 

I\Iay we find comfort in the good hope prompted 
and inspired by our natures, that ^'if our earthly 
house of this tabernacle be dissolved, we have a 
building of God, a house not made with hands, 
eternal in the heavens. " And as we lay away to 
rest this now worn out and lifeless form, may we 
treasure the memory and good name of its depart- 
ed occupant, who has dwelt in this tabernacle to 
honor it, to use it for a rational service of the 
world, to enjoy it as the temple of thy spirit. 

We thank thee that he has lived, and been of us 
and among us, to bless his kindred and to bless 
humanity by his industry, his thought, his living 
example. W^e thank thee that having lived and 



Prayers. 171 

lived well, he still belongs to the ''choir invisible" 
of those who have made the world better by their 
presence in it. We thank thee that he still lives in 
his work, that being dead he yet speaketh. 

May we hear him. May we take into our hearts 
the lesson of his life, to profit by all the good he 
has done for us and for mankind. jMay we feel 
our obligation to be better, and more efficient by 
reason of the good that we recall as belonging to 
him. 

Bless these his kindred in the flesh. Direct 
their minds to those high themes which are suste- 
nance in need and mitigation for life's sorrows. In 
honoring his memory and his remains, may they 
take counsel of thy truth, and find thy grace suffi- 
cient for them. 

Prepare us day by day for the duties of each 
day. Fit us more and more for life in this world. 
So wilt thou prepare us also for departure, and 
for entrance upon such life as awaits us on the 
shores beyond. 

In all these, our prayers, may we pray in the 
exercise of our highest purposes, and in the right 
use of all our faculties, by the discharge of all our 
responsibilities, that so our prayer shall not be 
the prayer of words alone. 

And unto thee who art able to do only wisely 
and well whatever we may ask or think, belongeth 
all praise and glory evermore. Amen. 



172 Prayers. 



E have no just name by which to call thee 
who art above all human thoughts, as high 
as the heavens of infinite space are above and 
beyond the limits which bound our earthly vision 
and our human knowledge. 

We have often called thee God, and Father, 
Maker and Provider, but in this we have not 
known thee except according to our finite facul- 
ties and comprehension. 

But by so much as thou dost surpass our com- 
prehension, by so much have we reason to rejoice, 
and to trust our destiny in thy hands. 

AVe rejoice that thou art in all things and every- 
where, so that not a sparrow falls to the ground 
without thy agency, and even the hairs of our head 
are all numbered. 

We rejoice that while by reason of thy ignor- 
ance, clouds and darkness seem to be round about 
thee, yet it must be that thou art light, and that 
in thee can be no darkness. 

AYe rejoice that while many things seem imper- 
fect here, yet could we see the end of all, as even 
from the beginning thou dost see it, then would 
all which is beyond human control appear related 
to ends that are divinely great and good. 

AVe would worship thee in the thought that 
nothing is better for us than that thy will be done; 
nothing better for us than to submit to the course 



Prayers. 173 

of Nature, and to pass into thy hands when this 
Ufe, this earthly course, is ended. 

We look on to the future to see thee fulfill more 
and more a purpose of good, making it true that 
'Hhe sufferings of this present time are not worthy 
to be compared with the glory which shall be re- 
vealed in us." 

We thank thee for the thought, that ''we cannot 
go where universal love smiles not around, from 
seeming evil still educing good, and thence better, 
and better still in infinite progression." 

In these days of affliction, may it be ours to 
rest in hope, to bear with patience, and to go 
forward unto what remains of labor and awaits us 
of change, sustained by an unfaltering trust. 

And as we commit our dear ones to thy hands 
when this earthly course is run, may we not forget 
how great a blessing they have been to us; how it 
is better for us and the world that they should 
have come and gone, than if we had not had them 
here. May it be ours to cherish their memories, 
to imitate their virtues, to take up the work of 
their lives and carry it forward, and to take up 
our own work of life with new diligence and zeal, 
that so w^hat they have helped the world to gain 
in righteousness and true prosperity, may be ground 
of still higher gain and still richer good. 

And now, while we forget none of the good things 
which are behind, may we all look forward to the 



174 Prayers. 

things which are before, to the good work of life 
which remains to be done, to the exercise of our 
high calling as servants of humanity, to the fulfill- 
ment of every duty amid the things seen which are 
temporal, and thus to wise provision for the things 
which are not seen and eter^ial. 

Our Father who art in heaven, hallowed be thy 
name; thy kingdom come, thy will be done on 

earth as it is in heaven For thine is the 

power, and the glory forever. Amen. 



Q FATHER! Make the light of thy countenance 
to shine upon these mourners whom this sad 
ai^iction hath visited. May they be enabled to 
see such a portion of thy perfect ways as to rise 
above their grief to a peaceful contemplation of 
thy character. May they repose on the bosom of 
thy infinite love; and have such faith in thee — in 
the wisdom of thy government, and in the over- 
ruling power wherewith thou controlest all events, 
that they shall be able to say, ^^thy grace is suffi- 
cient for us," and ''let thy will be done." Al- 
though great (and sudden) calamity hath come 
upon them and there seems to be an unusual dark- 
ness, although fond hopes are cut off and tender 
ties are roughly severed, yet may they believe that 
thou knowest all, and that such is thy wisdom, such 
thy love and power, that thou couldst not allow 



Prayers. 175 

such things to be, except it were to work out in the 
end some great and essential good. 

Looking beyond this seeming evil and confusion, 
may they see that there must be harmony in the 
workings of thy Providence, and that as not a 
sparrow falleth to the ground without thy notice, 
so no child of thine, so no child, no dear friend 
of theirs, can be stricken down without the con- 
currence of a divine law that is just, nor without 
the overruling of a divine power that is loving and 
kind. Although they may not be able to see the 
necessary connection and dependence of all events, 
although no human wisdom is able to fathom_ and 
explain the mystery of all our sufferings and trials, 
yet thou seest all, and thou canst do no wrong. 
Hence may they cast themselves in faith upon 
thee, and beholding the light of thy presence in 
all the good that exists, and by faith seeing thee 
as the perfect Father, may they rest in the conclu- 
sion that even here is no exception to the truth 
that over all events thou rulest for the sake of 
those whom thou lovest as thy children. 

O Lord! In thy light may they see light; in thy 
goodness find blessing; and wilt thou lift the light 
of thy countenance upon them, and give them 
peace. Amen. 



176 Prayers. 

UR Father who art in heaven: we thank thee 
for our life, since thou art the light of our life, 
our refuge from every storm, and our abiding place 
forever. 

We thank thee for life; and why should we not 
thank thee also for death, so manifestly a jDart of 
thy plan, so often a release from pain, so often a 
sweet sleep and rest to the exhausted frame, and 
the laying down of burdens after the work on earth 
has been faithfully done. 

We thank thee for the hope of our natures and 
the faith of our souls which dwell on the possibili- 
ties that are fairer than eye hath seen, greater than 
ear hath heard, and better than hath entered into 
the heart of man to desire. 

AVe thank thee that in all of us is life that can- 
not die; and that we are able to gain some glimpses 
of the law which makes such death as we are sub- 
ject to a condition of unfolding and divineness. 

We cannot forget to thank thee now for the life 
of the dear friend which we feel is still continued 
unto us, still living in our lives, in our thoughts, 
in our memories, and in the world he has done so 
much to improve and bless. 

We cannot think of him without a desire to 
honor him, or without the impulse to bid him fair 
and glorious speed towards all that he hoped for 
and aspired unto in what lies beyond the threshold, 
where for a season we are parted from him. 



Prayers. 177 

We thank thee for the faith that he has gone 
forward, nor yet has gone from us, nor left us 
without a blessing bestowed as the word and work 
of his life that will abide as a continuance of his 
presence, while we go on to fulfill the work of our 
appointed time here below. 

Having such a treasure of remembrance, such 
an example of good qualities, such an influence to 
admonish and help us, may we all be enabled to 
run with like earnestness and like patience, the race 
that is set before us: that so we may be welcomed 
continually into the kingdom of a higher life for 
mankind, and may hear the voice of thy approval: 
''Well done, good and faithful servants, enter into 
the joy of thy Lord." 

In the name of thee our Father, in the name of 
all the good and glorified ones thou hast sent, and 
for the sake of thy kingdom, for the sake of all 
thy toiling, suffering, sorrowing children, we give 
these thanks and ask these blessings. Amen. 



'E raise our thoughts to the Father of Life, 
whose children we are. 
We thank thee whose name is ''The Good;" who 
art the "Everlasting Goodness;" that although we 
cannot fathom the mysteries of life and of death, 
and must look up to thee through tears and out of 
the depths of an overwhelming sorrow, we can yet 
meet death and contemplate death, without fear. 



178 Prayers. 

We thank thee for the hopes of our natures which 
do not yield our loved ones up to extinction, and 
for the voice of our reason which tells us that the 
inevitable must be well. 

Too blind and weak are we to comprehend all 
the counsels of thy will, or to say why there must 
needs be pain as well as pleasure, or why there 
must needs be the fearful storm as well as the gen- 
tle zephyr and the peaceful sunshine, yet we thank 
thee that thou hast made us too strong to murmur 
or complain, too strong to doubt that there is jus- 
tice in the universe, and a right purpose in all the 
things which are beyond our control. 

A cry of our natures goes forth to thee in prayer. 
And we would pray, first of all, that we may have 
true prayer. May we have a right spirit in view 
of all that it is in vain for us to ask or seek, and 
have faith that what our hearts desire that is beyond 
reach and not now and here appointed for us, may 
be confided to thy hands and trusted to thy will. 
^ We feel it right to desire that the memory of the 
dear friend taken from us may abide in our hearts 
to be cherished by reason of his worth, his virtue, 
and his devotion to his kindred, to his friends, 
and to his duties and calling, whereby he was able 
to serve these, and fulfill his part towards mankind 
and the world. 

May the infinite Wisdom that rules all events be 
trusted by these afilicted ones. May this house- 



Prayers. 179 

hold, this family circle, to all the members of 
which he was dear, still be glad to think of him, 
and find it good to think of him, while they yet 
are sad to miss him, and do justly mourn his de- 
parture. 

May all who have known him keep his memory 
sacred, respect his manly qualities, and desire to 
live as good lives as it seemed he was aiming and 
striving to live. 

May the lesson of this event be taken to heart 
by us all. May we come to think more and more 
wisely concerning the significance and capabilities 
of life. And well knowing that the time with us 
may be short, may we be diligent and faithful, and 
aim in all things to gain a noble height of honor 
and true usefulness to mankind. 

And now be with us, O thou Infinite Goodness, 
to bless us and keep us, to make thy face to 
shine upon us, and to give us present comfort and 
the ever-abiding peace. Amen. 



FOR PARENTS. 

OST merciful Father! Wilt thou visit with 
thy consoling presence these thy afflicted 
servants. Thou who art thyself more and better 
than any earthly father or mother; thou who 
knowest every feeling which thou hast wrought into 
the parental heart; wilt thou administer the heal- 



i8o Prayers. 

ing balm of divine truth unto these parents in their 
present trial. Although this dear child of their 
love is prematurely cut down and withered, yet 
may they find that thou art the comforter of the 
afflicted, and that thy rod and thy staff are still 
the great blessing of their existence. ]\Iay they 
not dwell upon their great loss with vain or un- 
mitigated sadness, but look forward unto possibili- 
ties of ultimate gain, and unto the time when by 
reason of more extended knowledge of thy pur- 
poses and more ample experience of thy grace, all 
the sorrows of the past shall be counted as precious 
pearls. And may that world of light and glory 
which humanity has long believed in and hoped 
for rise before the vision of their faith in new 
brightness as the home of the departed and de- 
parting; and may they be drawn into living com- 
munion with him who drew young children into his 
presence and said, '' Suffer them to come unto me, 
for of such is the kins^dom of heaven." Amen. 



rnUR Father who art in heaven! The source of 
^ all blessings — the controller of all destinies: 
to come to thee is our greatest privilege; to feel 
thy presence in our souls is our highest good. 
Great and good are thy gifts, but thou art greater 
and better. ''The grass withereth, the flower 
fadeth, but the word of our God endureth forever." 



Prayers. i8i 

Our earthly prospects vary and change, but thou 
art immutable; the same in wisdom, kindness and 
love to thy children, in thy willingness to receive 
those who seek thee, and in thy readiness to bless 
those who feel their need of thee, and who hunger 
and thirst after righteousness. 

Grant us that while we are called to consider 
our mortality, we may yet more thoughtfully con- 
sider our immortality. Grant us to see in the 
death of these bodies, a divine purpose, a dispen- 
sation of thy wisdom, and a Providence which in 
every act of apparent destruction but furthers the 
process of eternal creation. May we see in death 
but a further continuance of thy benificent work, 
in the production, the expansion, the enlargement 
of our life. Amen. 



E thank' thee, O God, for that faith in thee 
which supersedes all anxiety in regard to the 
locality of our future habitation or the form of 
our future being. We thank thee that, living or 
dying, we are in thy hand, and that for us all thou 
providest our place, being able to devise better for 
us than we are able to ask; and that, so far as we 
are right in purpose and pure in heart, we shall 
dwell with thee. Amen. 



Prayers. 

E thank thee, O God, for life, and we thank 
thee for death; but most of all for the assur- 
ance that all death which thou hast appointed is a 
condition of higher life. While submissively suf- 
fering that to die, w^hich in its nature is mortal and 
must needs die, wilt thou daily quicken us, O God, 
in the life which is undying and eternal. Amen. 



(^pptntix. 



^(JlteiMotiaf^ftetc^. 



[Read before the Western Unitarian Conference at Chicago, May 13, 1891 

Friends of the Western Unitarian Conference: — A 
year ago it was one of our tender privileges to send words of 
love and fellowship to our brother, Judson Fisher, who was 
then lying on his bed of pain at his home at Alton, Illinois. 
Our words reached him just in time to light the dark shadows 
and to warm his heart once more with the sense of the cheer 
and fellowship that he himself had given his life so freely to 
distribute, and then he passed out of sight and beyond. It is 
fitting then that at this session of the Conference, some word 
of recognition should be spoken. It is also fitting that that 
word should be spoken by one who perhaps has had the longest 
intimacy and the closest relationship with him in his work, of 
any of- the present members of this Conference. 

Judson Fisher was born of sterling New England stock at 
Walpole, among the New Hampshire hills, on the 13th day of 
November, 1824. His ancestors were of the liberal school in 
theology. His boyhood training was upon a farm, but he was 
born to preach. In childhood he played at what in manhood 
became his commanding work. His instincts for the ministry 
were matured, not in a theological school, but in the old-fash- 
ioned way of tutorship, in the home, study, and work of Rev. 
S. C. Loveland, a Universalist minister of fine scholarship. In 
1849, after some three years of this apprenticeship, Mr. Fisher 
was, at the age of twenty-five, ordained to the ministry, and 
began his work at Hartland, Vermont. From thence he went to 
Marlboro, N. H., and then to Shelburne Falls, Mass., which, 
after a six years' ministry, he left for another six years' work at 
Alstead, N. H. At this time, through the encouragement of 
his friend, Dr. Bellows, and in obedience to his own ever- 



II Appendix. 

broadening sympathies, he joined the Unitarian fellowship and 
took up the work at Lebanon, N. H. In 1869, with his twenty 
years of acquired skill and experience, he came west and took 
up the work with All Souls Church at Janesville, Wis, From 
thence he went to Whitewater, Wis., then to Monroe, serving 
with equal joy the Universalist and the Unitarian constituents 
at these places, always driven on by the weakness of the flesh 
which could not put him down but would not let go of him. 

In 1874 he was elected Secretary of the Wisconsin Unitarian 
Conference, which office he occupied for four years. To turn 
over the leaves of the record-book during these years, is to 
realize how alert, diligent, and sympathetic was his touch, and 
consecrated his words. During those years the State Confer- 
ence reached its maximum in the way of a popular missionary 
agency — a force for mental and spiritual quickening. During 
his administration the State Conference rallied three and four 
times a year, held sessions two and three days long, organized 
summer meetings at Geneva Lake, Devil's Lake, Soldiers' 
Home in Milwaukee, which gathered hundreds and even thou- 
sands of people. Ten sessions were held in the four years. 
They were sessions which called for and gladly recieved help 
from the ministers of the adjoining states. They were sessions 
when there was more faith in the speaking of the word and 
scattering of the seed than there was anxiety for organiza- 
tion, church building and statistics. Everywhere his touch is 
felt and seen in these records. His own word always striking 
high notes. Among topics of his own papers are to be found 
the following: "All Things Are Yours;" "Sects vs. Sectar- 
ianism;" "The True and Perpetual Incarnation;" "The King- 
dom of God a Growth;" " What Constitutes the Moral Vir- 
tues?" Even here we come upon such notes as "This paper 
of the Secretary was read by his wife owing to his own illness. " 
Once in a while we find resolutions of sympathy sent to him 
on his sick bed, and four years after his election, in 1878, we 
find resolutions of regret over his removal from the state, aris- 



Appendix. hi 

ing from his lack of health. From Monroe, Wis., he went to 
Alton, 111., where for nine years he labored in a more hospit- 
able climate. Here he awakened a society that had been tor- 
pid for years, restored the historic church, built a parsonage, 
and then laid down the work to take it up again with a more 
enfeebled frame at Sheffield, 111. He stayed here long enough 
to endear himself to men, women and children. It was his 
tactics to fight the increasing weakness by facing a new field 
and still harder work, so he went to Cincinnati to inaugurate 
the new Unity Church there. The story of those months of 
his ministry in the smoky atmosphere of that city is indeed a 
story of "strength in weakness;" a story as touching as it is 
beautiful. At last he came back to enjoy for a very few 
months the home which he had merited for himself not only 
through his long years of faithful service, but through the 
grateful and manly boys who had grown up to help lift the 
sheltering roof over him. 

Brother Fisher had not lost the old beautiful art of letter 
writing. I have just been looking over the files of letters 
received from him during the nearly twenty years of our ac- 
quaintance. They are marvels of good fellowship, clear judg- 
ment, and brotherly frankness. On leaving his work at Shef- 
field he wrote: 

I have received every mark of respect and gratitude that a pastor could 
desire on parting with his people. I think I leave them full of courage and 
determination to keep up their service. Not the least of my regret at leav- 
ing is to leave the Rock River Circle which I helped to organize. The 
fellowship has been tender and beautiful. 

On the eve of starting for Cincinnati, he says: 

O, that I was young again! I have been reading the Life of Agassiz. 
No book has so taken hold of me for a long time. Let every young man 
read it and see what life is good for if one has a mind to think himself good 
for something. 

While at Sheffield, speaking of the project of the boys to 
build a house at Alton, he says: 

They propose to make a place of refuge in case I must stop preaching, 
as indeed ere long I ought to, but the letting go is hard; I do not enjoy it. 



IV Appendix. 

Later he writes: 

Our home in Alton is ready for us, or will be in a few days. I am anxious 
to see and try it, yet I do not like to cease work, and will hold on as long 
as I can. I presume I must stop for vacation, but wish there was something 
near that I might lay hold of. 

After his first trip to Cincinnati, he says: 

I felt all right while preaching Sunday, but when I took the cars Mon- 
day I found myself contracting a severe cold and was obliged to put myself 
at night in the doctor's care. I shall be undergoing repairs for a day or 
two, but will be right again I hope before next Sunday. While writing I 
fell to meditating, and feel like sending some of the meditations for the 
benefit of the cause. The consciences of some of our Unitarians and Uni- 
tarian societies need tuning up. The sacrifice necessary to be made should 
not come quite so heavily upon the few and upon the preachers. There is 
cause of grievance, but so much good is done that we must forget that. 

But I must not begin to open up the fountains of memories, 
or venture to quote from the large pile of letters that are at 
hand. They are too tender; too personal. They are so vigil- 
ant, so kind, so ready to help; to help by criticism as well as 
by contribution. 

The cause of the Western Conference was almost identical 
with the sources of his life for the last struggling years. He 
was the one who moved in Wisconsin to change the name of 
the Conference from that of "Unitarian and Other Liberal 
Christian Churches" to "Unitarian and Other Independent 
Societies." He anticipated from afar the rising problem of 
the open fellowship among Unitarians and the struggle that 
would spring therefrom. He was prepared for it and he did 
his best to prepare the rest of us for it. 

He was among the first to urge the wisdom of lowering the 
subscription price of Unity to $i per annum, that thereby its 
missionary efficiency might be increased. And the subsequent 
experience of the editors and publishers have abundantly 
justified his vision. Never so sick, never so weak was he but 
that he kept his pencil and scissors near at hand that from 
his wide readings there might come the quotations and items 
for Unity, These clippings and comments — snatches of 
wisdom, original and selected — came in full envelopes to the 



Appendix. v 

over-busy hand of the senior editor with a regularity which 
none other of his faithful associates were able to secure. 

Mr. Fisher all through his life was a gleaner, but not in any 
sense a repeater. His sermons, though often enriched with 
quotations and bits of lore, were always strong, original, bold 
and devout, and when his frame was so reduced that it was 
but a poor excuse of a shelter for such a spirit, once in the 
pulpit there was spirit enough to make round the sentences and 
sonorous the emphasis. 

I am glad that Mrs. Fisher has consented to present us with 
a little memorial volume consisting of the extracts which it 
was his wont to glean for the comforting of human souls. I 
believe that many who love the Western Conference and who 
revere the name of this man who has not only left his indelible 
mark upon the Societies at Janesville, Whitewater, and Mon- 
roe, in Wisconsin, Alton and Sheffield, in Illinois, Cincinnati, 
the Wisconsin State Conference and the Rock River Circle, 
but upon countless lives of men and women, will be glad to 
find his words, taste and feeling perpetuated in this little 
volume of "Comfortings," and they will hope that other 
volumes, still more characteristic, may follow. 

A good, brave, modest man, one who out-measured the 
laborous, zealous, fearless preacher, has gone from us. We 
nr'ss the faithful friend. Nay! Such a man never goes away 
from us. He remains. He abides. He increases in a thou- 
sand ways; one of which ways is to inspire in those of who 
are left, greater courage — nobler fidelity. J. Ll. J. 



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